


Star-Crossed

by 1JettaPug, Ruriruri



Series: KISS Me One Last Time [3]
Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: 1980s, Anal Sex, Angst, Arguing, Comfort, Crying, Cupcakes, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Feeding, Feelings, Fights, Fluff, Food, Foreign Language, Hand Feeding, Internal Conflict, Kissing, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Male Slash, Morning Sex, Riding, Rock Stars, Sensuality, Smut, Sobbing, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 05:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruriruri/pseuds/Ruriruri
Summary: Tensions between Ace and Paul run higher than ever after Peter’s firing from KISS. Gene finds himself caught up in a relationship he never expected, but he’s already afraid for how long it’ll last.





	Star-Crossed

Gene hadn’t thought the state of the band could get any worse without imploding, and, unfortunately, he’d been right.

Seven years together, but one group vote had been all it took to get Peter out of the band. Ace, naturally, had protested at first, but not as vehemently as Gene would’ve expected. Paul hadn’t even seemed like he was trying too heavily to nudge Ace’s decision, either. None of that wordless discussion he’d been privy to watching from them last year. Maybe he shouldn’t have felt guilty about that, but he did.

Maybe he should have felt more guilty about firing Peter. There hadn’t been the explosion he’d counted on out of the drummer. They’d finished filming the promo video for “Shandi;” Peter picked up his makeup kit, and that was all. Anticlimactic, but not a relief. Instead, Gene’s stomach felt like it was lodged with rocks every time he thought about it, every time he hoped, insisted, they’d all cut Peter as much leeway as they could. Brought in a guy to help him drum, complained far less than they should have about missing practices, missing beats… shit, Peter hadn’t even played on their new album. They’d been right. He’d been right. But being right hadn’t done a damn thing. It hadn’t fixed KISS.

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. With Peter gone, they’d had to postpone their European tour to promote _Unmasked_ \-- and postponing was paralyzing. KISS had always, always toured hot on the heels of each new album. It kept the buzz going, the fervor high. Waiting too long between albums and tours could be their death knell. 

There was some talk about heading to Australia, but that was predicated on _Unmasked_ 's success. If its sales were as lukewarm as the solo albums had been… well, he didn’t want to think about that. The poppy sound was exactly what they needed, something fresh, something revitalizing. Given a few more weeks of drilling that into his head and he might actually believe it.

He might actually believe it almost as much as he believed whatever was left of Paul and Ace’s relationship was salvageable. He could hear them both in the hotel room next door, none of the old grunting and moaning, just words, both their accents getting progressively heavier the longer they talked and the more the talking devolved into yelling. Gene turned up the volume on the TV to drown out the din, wincing when he saw _The Midnight Special_ was about the only offering left at this time of night. Five years ago they’d been on there. They’d been the up-and-coming band, and now they were looking for a drummer and hoping for a miracle.

Where did they go wrong? 

Gene sighed, throwing his head back against the pillows. The real question was where did he go wrong? KISS was falling apart at the seams, and it was all his fault… If… If only he had taken Paul’s hand- No! No, no, no. God only knows where that could’ve landed them! They might’ve all split up and broken KISS up entirely if he had done that. After all, all it would’ve taken would’ve been one little word to slip out into the media frenzy surrounding them and- BAM!! They’d have been all washed up and spat upon the very next morning! 

But…

He turned his head towards the wall where all the yelling was coming from.

But his mind couldn’t help but just wonder… He couldn’t help but only think of the things that could’ve happened if he had only taken Paul’s hand… Where would they be? Maybe it wouldn't have gone as badly as all that. Maybe it would have been better for all of them. With Paul and Ace, he'd had glimpses of what he'd never come close to in his own relationships. Cher had loved to talk feelings and emotions, but it had all ultimately felt so self-serving and superficial. But when he'd been with the two of them that first time (the _only_ time, he tried to correct), they hadn't needed much in the way of words. It was just-- being. Peaceful and secure. 

Gene could hear Ace begin to yell even louder and throw things around in his hotel room. He could overhear every single word regardless of how much he turned the TV up. Paul was pushing him, pushing him and trying to make him admit his faults, his alcoholism and drug abuse.

The lead guitarist just kept on claiming that they shouldn't be fighting about this petty shit, this vicious and ugly and slipping nearly out of control ugly shit that all started because Paulie wouldn't listen to him. He cursed and threw something else against the wall, maybe a chair. Ace just kept going and going, claiming that Paul knew just where to push, how to find his weakness and exploit the hell out of it, how he just forced people to a conclusion or a direction he thought they needed to see. Gene guessed Ace might’ve meant Peter… but the more he thought about it, the more he thought it might’ve been connected to their own relationship.

Paul was snapping right back. Insisting he wasn't pushing a damn thing, that Ace was screwing himself over without any help. Nothing new. He’d had that same conversation with Ace himself. It was just the edge that was different, just the implications. Gene closed his eyes as if that would keep him from hearing it.

“It's not about the goddamn band with you anymore! It hasn't been for years! It's just you and the booze and the coke. There isn't any fucking room for anything else anymore!”

“Maybe there could've been. But you didn't want that, did you, Paul? You didn't want to get any closer. You're so fucking afraid of anybody seeing you, anybody knowing you-- you'd rather moon over someone you can't get than take what's in fucking front of you!”

“What’s in front of me right now, Ace? _Tell me!_ Look in the fucking mirror and tell me what you see? Go on- No, wait! I’ll save you the trouble of turning around and stumbling around like the drunk you are!”

“I am not! Christ! I know when to come off it! You-- you think I’m the one with the fucking problem! It’s easier like that, right? But you-- you’re so fucking neurotic you can’t even go in a fucking restaurant by yourself! Don’t act like you’re so goddamn high and mighty!”

“Don’t change the subject! This isn’t about me!”

“Sure it’s not…” Gene could just hear the eye-roll that went along with that. “How the hell isn’t the whole thing about you?! You, you, _you!_ It always revolves around _you_ , Paul! God… Do you even know how much baggage you’re hauling around with you lately?”

“Dammit, Ace! Stop and consider how I feel for five seconds! Y- You know I can’t be like you! I can’t just fuck off and do whatever I want and let someone else clean up the mess!”

There was a short pause before Ace spoke next, tone acrid.

“And it ain’t even because you’re so damn responsible. It’s because you’re so damn scared of a fucking tabloid finding out you’re half deaf or we’re fucking or both. Shit, at the rate KISS is going, it won’t even matter!” he shouted, louder than he should have, probably, but Gene knew he didn’t care right now. In Ace’s mind, Paul was asking for it, and who did he think he was yelling at and blaming things on?

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Gene held his breath. More was coming. He was just waiting for the cannons to start firing again.

“... _Ace!_ Y- You shut the hell up, right now!” Paul screeched through a half sob. Oh Christ… Gene threw an arm over his face and groaned. Paul was already crying? Damn his heart for the way it ached over that...

“Can't take it, can you?! You can't take anything! You can cut me up to fucking ribbons all you want and I'm supposed to just let you, but one word out of me and you're busting up!”

“It’s not the same! _It’s not--_ ”

“ _How is it not the fucking same!?_ ”

Gene’s thumb fell back on the volume button of the remote and just pushed down until the TV was drowning them out. The wall shook a bit as Ace probably tossed another chair at it in frustration, knocking a framed picture off the wall.

“Goddammit…” Gene sighed, trying to rest his head back and block out all the noise, all the confusion, all the rage… But he didn’t count of his own emotions trying to trickle in to fill the void he created.

He dove in too deep. He stood too close to the fire. 

But Paul was the one drowning. And Ace was the one getting burned alive.

It was terrifying.

KISS was a falling star only getting closer and closer to hitting the ground. At this point, it really just felt like a matter of time. And… And the one chance he might have had at fixing it… fixing them… He’d just backed away from it.

He was still backing away from it. Easier to just turn up the volume than face any of what the band had become and the part he’d played in it. Fucking cowardice. He hadn’t even let himself think of what Ace and Paul’s fooling around might have been like before he’d ended up between them in the cab. Back then Ace’s drunkenness had still been something to laugh about and Paul’s insecurities weren’t so gapingly obvious. Probably because they had each other in some warped sense. He ought to know how important it was for someone to be waiting in that hotel room. He had all those photo albums to prove it. All those blithe, meaningless one-night-stands, and they hadn’t been, weren’t enough for him. He had to wreck whatever spot of warmth his bandmates had, too.

Gene felt the tears form at the corners of his eyes, and he hastily wiped them away, laying his head sideways and doing his damndest to pretend they never appeared. He had to pretend that didn’t appear. He just had to at this point. Someone had to anyway…

Subconsciously, his thumb slipped back down, lowering the volume on _The Midnight Special_ to the point where the yelling from the next room was crystal clear once more.

“--fuckin’ don’t give a shit about my feelings anymore, Ace!”

“That’s the stupid part, though! I care! I care too much, goddammit! Here I am trying to juggle four people’s lives all at once, Paulie! I dealt with every single issue Peter brought to the table because he’s my best friend! I dealt with Gene’s attitude and demeanor for you- _for you_ , dammit! Way before you ever begged me to let him in! Think about that!”

“Ace--”

“I’m not done! I have had to deal with your anxious ass for fuckin’ years! A- And it’s not even that you don’t wanna have the media expose you or nothing! I can understand that, even though it doesn’t make me happy! I can put up with that! But…” Gene heard a sharp cry and sob split their tension for only a minute. It didn’t last, as it was soon broken up by more yelling. “But you- _you_ told Gene that you loved him! _Him!_ A- And look what he did to you- to us! But here you are, pining over him, still! Fuck you!”

“Ace, please--”

“Fuck you! I- I can hardly handle my own life anymore, Paulie! There’s too much happening, my head’s always spinning and I’m always sick to my stomach- with or without booze! But noooooo, we can’t focus on poor Ace! Let’s always keep the fuckin’ camera on Starchild! Always you, always fuckin’ you--”

“Let’s focus on you, then!” Paul shouted back at him, raising his voice above his. “Look at yourself, Ace! You’re starting to tumble down the same path as Peter! You’re less and less like yourself with each bottle! I can’t count on you showing up for rehearsals on time anymore! Hell, I can’t count on you for anything! You’re just always boozed up, always on coke, and your playing is starting to reflect that!”

“So what!? I can still play! O- Or are you just gonna kick me out like you did Peter?!”

“We took a vote! You agreed with us--”

“You two kicked out my best friend! Just threw him aside like a piece of trash!”

“Well, fuck, we’re going to do the same to you if you don’t stop this- _all of this_ , right now!”

“I can stop whenever I want!”

“No! No you can’t!”

“Yes, I can!”

“Ace-- Ace, you’re gonna kill yourself! You want that? How many fucking car crashes is it gonna take? How many lines? You said you couldn’t handle it-- you don’t want to handle it! You don’t want to get clean! You don’t want to face up to me or Gene or Jeanette--”

“Don’t tell me who I’m not facing up to!”

“Oh, grow the fuck up!” Even from the other side of the wall, Gene could hear the break in Paul’s voice. “She’s having your _baby_ , Ace! And you’re gonna leave that kid without a father if you keep this shit up! You want that? Can you honestly tell me you want--”

“Shut the _fuck_ up!”

“I won’t! It’s not just you anymore! It’s not just the band, either! You’ve got a family! What the hell are you gonna do? You gonna tell your kid you were on some fucking spaceflight to Jendell when she asks why you’re never there? Gonna get loaded right in front of her?”

“S- Stop--”

“You’ve got all these responsibilities you don’t give a shit about!”

“Paul, stop--!”

“You’re throwing your opportunities away with them! Your whole life… Ace, wake up already!”

“I said _stop it!_ ”

**_SMASH!!_ **

Gene clicked the power button on the TV in a heartbeat. He sat up and held his breath, waiting.

“...”

“........”

“...............”

“.... _P- Paulie…. I- I didn’t mean it… i- it was an accident….!_ ”

There was a sharp inhale before Paul broke into an ugly sob, slamming his back perhaps into the wall. Then footsteps, stumbling over towards him, failing, however, and a dull thud was heard instead. 

Paul growled something incoherent through the midst of his tears, then shoved the door open, managing to ignore his partner’s cries and scramble out in seconds. Gene heard him as he retreated to his own room, slamming the door shut only after breaking down outside of it momentarily.

Gene turned his head away and curled in a bit on himself. His entire chest ached, those emotions of his starting to rise up from where he had buried them months ago. He bit his lip and shook his head.

No. No, no, no. He was NOT going to go down there… He couldn’t! Hell, knowing how he handled things before, Gene just knew he couldn’t go down there, for Paul’s own sake! He’d only make things worse-- he only kept making things worse. But-- but what if he’d been hurt? Was that honestly something he could turn his back on? And speaking of worse…

His ears twitched up when he heard the telltale signs of Ace trying to fumble to his feet. A few more crashes were heard, and it sounded like he had thrown everything off a dresser. Out of rage, out of despair, out of drunkenness, Gene couldn’t tell…

A small clink was heard, and Ace’s door was thrown open for a second time before being slammed shut by the guitarist himself.

Gene should have gotten up- should have gone out into the hall and slapped those car keys right out of his hands. But… But he couldn’t move. Honestly, he didn’t know if it would be safer for Ace to attempt to drive or face him this evening… Gene truly didn’t trust his hands not to turn to fists with all the emotions he was feeling tonight.

No… No, he just sat and listened as Ace stumbled down the hall to the elevator. It dinged, letting him on, then just like that, he was gone for the night.

Gene let loose a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. A small bit of tension left his shoulders, but those same damn feelings remained. He wanted to shout in rage as they boiled within him, trying to force him to understand them. No! He couldn’t do it- not again! He couldn’t handle that shit now! No, he’d just shove them back--

**_Knock, Knock, Knock!!!_ **

Gene blinked.

**_Knock, Knock, Knock!!!_ **

“...What the hell?”

**_Knock, Knock, Knock!!!_ **

“Guh- Gene…! Pul- Please…! I- I… I…. Gene…!” Paul was choking on his own sobs. He knocked against his door once more, then laid his head against it with a soft thud. “Please… I- I… need… please…”

“...” Gene felt his chest begin to rise and fall a bit quicker. The anticipation of Paul’s every word…. It was killing him. Hearing him so broken, so alone, it was maddening. And he hated how all of it was driving stakes through his heart.

He got out of bed and yanked the door open before he could let himself falter another moment.

“Paul.” He exhaled, staring at him. If anything, seeing Paul now only made the tension within him worse. “You okay?”

He couldn’t have picked a stupider question. Paul looked like an absolute wreck, whole face red, snot running down his nose. Worse than he’d ever seen him in the ten years they’d known each other. He was choking back sobs in ragged, breathy hitches, like a little kid who’d cried too long and too hard, rubbing his eyes roughly against his sleeve. Trying to pull himself together when he didn’t need to. When he couldn’t. But he didn’t look hurt. Not physically, at least.

“... _No_ ,” Paul cried, finally looking up at Gene. The sadness in his eyes was a horrible knife that was carving one hell of a wound into him. Gene watched those hot, fat tears roll down and stain his cheeks and it was like driving the final nail into the coffin.

“Oh, Paul…” he called out softly to him, bringing his hand up and gently pulling him forward by his shoulder. Paul fell against him, hiding his face in his old grey shirt and truly starting to break down. Gene pulled the rest of his body against his front, tugging him into a very much welcomed hug.

“Easy, easy…” Gene spoke gently. His hand came up to brush through his hair, but it stopped when it felt the shattered remains of that bottle strewn through the unkempt curls. “...Paul… Did he…?”

“ _J- Just the wall…!_ ” Paul murmured, brokenly.

Just the wall. Just the wall? How about just right next to his head!?

Gene growled, deeply, holding Paul tight against him now. His hand came up and brushed out those little shards of glass, knocking them down to the floor below. When he was done, he cradled the back of his head and held it carefully from where it rested against his chest.

Paul couldn’t seem to stop sobbing. The tenderness was too much, too warm. He didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve a bit of it. Ace was right about him. Always critical. Always tearing Ace apart and recoiling when he dared turn it back to him. He’d do the same with anyone else. Fucked-up addict or no, he’d find faults to stab at and stab at and stab at until they couldn’t take it anymore. He wouldn’t be satisfied. He’d find someone else, someone out of the way to want and hope for. He’d never give himself up.

He wanted to run away from Gene, run away from everything. Everything. He wanted to take back every single word he’d screamed at Ace. He wanted to take the next flight out to New York, go home, really home, as if he could. Pretend this all never happened, just be some nothing rhythm guy again instead of some fucked-up Starchild who couldn’t be secure or happy or even manage to keep it together in front of his best friend.

But Gene holding him so tight, so gently, was enough to make him stay.

“Ssshhh, Paul, you’re gonna be alright.” Gene tried to reassure him. He was trying his best to ease the situation, make Paul comfortable against him and help him momentarily forget about all the fighting. “You’re stronger than you think… I know you’ll get past this…” he told him, and all of a sudden, Gene couldn’t break his gaze as Paul looked up at him. He just watched all the raw emotions in his face break down, and how all the anger and broken heartedness was slowly being muted by an ember of hope and obvious need.

“ _J- Just… Just hold me…_ ” Paul muttered quietly, fully submitting against Gene’s body. 

Gene tried to fight back some of those residual feelings but failed as Paul pushed up against him, his breathing shallow, his head pressed down against his chest.

Without even thinking about it, Gene’s hands settled at his waist, tugging him in closer to give him that extra bit of reassurance. Paul was still shuddering against him, inhaling the leftover cologne on Gene’s shirt, legs feeling unstable as water beneath him.

“It’s over. I-I know it’s over,” he managed, finally, barely over a mumble breathed over the fabric of Gene’s shirt. Every word was a little less stammered, a little more even as he tried to continue. “I don’t… I shouldn’t have…” Paul shook his head, burying it all the harder against his chest. “I can’t do it anymore.”

“...” Gene couldn’t come up with a reply. What was he supposed to say to that? He wasn’t happy to hear it… but he wasn’t upset, either. Honestly, it didn’t matter how he felt about it all right now. He wasn’t the one crying his eyes out over a… a breakup. The word seemed strange and heavy even in his mind, laying bare something he still didn’t want to face, but that didn’t make it any less true, any less real. All that really mattered right now was calming Paul down, trying to help him sort his feelings out. “C’mon. C’mon inside.”

Gently, he tugged Paul into the room, shutting the door behind them with his foot. It clicked shut, then Paul broke down into tears all over him. His fingers dug into his shirt, his shoulder was all but soaked with salty tears and Paul was getting snot all over his front.

Gene grimaced, but he didn’t do so out of disgust. He just pulled Paul closer to him and shushed him as gently and softly as he could, trying to think back to when he was a little child and how his mother comforted him. It wasn’t much, and it was his mother and him- not him and his bandmate- but it was all he had to work off of. He was never the real comforting type, so hell, it was all he really know when it came these sorts of things. 

Of course, he could ease and calm someone down a lot with physical touch, but the moment he opened his mouth, it could go either way… Gene, naturally, couldn’t help himself or even stop the burning questions that leapt up from his throat as soon as Paul stopped shuddering against him and peeled away from his grasp. 

“You and Ace… how, uh, long…” Gene fumbled lamely. Paul’s gaze, already more focused on Gene’s shoulder than his face, sank to the floor.

“You don’t really want to know.”

“I’m just trying to understand.” Gene swallowed. “That first time, I thought it was casual. I didn’t realize until after that…”

“Started out that way.” Paul exhaled, pushing his bangs out of his face only for a moment. “We… we were messing around before we even got signed on at Casablanca.”

“Shit, really?” That was more than a little startling. Gene had figured their whole… their whole relationship hadn’t been more than a year or two in the making at best. But for them to have started before the record deal-- that meant… that’d make it seven years. Seven years that Ace and Paul had been together in some fashion. They’d been at it ever since they’d _met_. Absolutely unreal. It just left Gene with more questions, questions he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. He stared at Paul, who still seemed determined to do all his talking to the floor instead.

“Nothing… nothing heavy, we’d just get drunk and fool around sometimes after practice. Experiment, I guess. Neither of us had done anything like that before. It wasn’t-- we weren’t having sex until the tours got big.”

“So… So how long then?” Gene asked, helping Paul sit down beside him on his bed. Well, he wasn’t really beside him as much as he was half sitting on his lap, but Gene didn’t care about that right now. He just let Paul lay his head against his shoulder and cry as much as he needed to.

“You’re gonna make me say it?”

“Not saying it won’t make it any less real.”

“’75,” Paul managed. He wasn’t stammering now, but the words were coming out in short, punctuated blurts, like a telegraph message. “We started fucking in ’75. It’s not like you think, all right? He didn’t drag me into anything or take advantage. We were having fun and it-- it was easy, yeah? No strings. No problems.”

“No problems,” Gene repeated. No problems until he’d walked right in. He shifted.

Paul whined uncomfortably as Gene squirmed in place beneath him. His eyes slowly drew up to his face and held his gaze. “Shut up… You’re not a problem... That’s not what I meant.”

Then what am I? The question burned in the back of Gene’s mind, but he held himself back. He couldn’t turn this around and make it about him right now… No matter how much it was killing him to know these things. But going off assumptions was exactly what had caused all those issues in the first place. If he wanted to be of help, any help to Paul, he had to find out the truth.

“...So you two had fun. No strings attached.” Gene sighed. “When did that change?”

“When do you think?”

“Paul, you know what I mean. When did it… when did it get serious?” 

Paul’s gaze was already faltering. He rubbed at his knuckles, then started scratching the remains of his black nail polish off his fingers. 

“I don’t know.”

“You can tell me.” Already, it was painful. Bad enough knowing that this had been going on for years, far longer than he’d ever expected, and knowing he’d helped wreck it. Gene knew, deep down, that he hadn’t been the whole problem, but…

“I don’t know, okay? I just know it happened. And even-- even that was all right! It was fine, we…” Paul trailed. “We didn’t talk about it, not really. Not much. I know Ace wanted to, I always knew he wanted to… I was too scared to say anything. I thought maybe, maybe what we did was enough proof of how we felt.”

“But what about Ace’s addictions? You had to know that sooner or later--”

“That was his own doing,” Paul muttered, pressing his face into Gene’s shirt again. “I… you know how it was in the beginning. It didn’t seem so bad. I was on some shit too, sometimes, back then, so I didn’t wanna push it. And he’d clean up, you know? When it was something important. When we-- when I asked him to. But then… then he wasn’t cleaning up anymore. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t make him stop… I- I… Oh god…” Paul drew in a quick breath, trying to hold back a wave of tears. It was a fruitless effort since he was in no condition to fight his feelings right then. All he could do was raise a shaky hand and wipe at his reddened eyes.

Gene pulled him closer, hauling him fully onto his lap, and held him close. He shushed him softly and rest his chin atop of the curve of Paul’s lowered head, his soft curls brushing against his cheeks.

“I- I, ah- I tried, Guh- Gene…!” Paul wept, intermittently. “I r- really did!”

“I bet you did, Paul. Damn… I bet you really did.” Gene said, simply, trying to hold back a tidal wave of his own feelings. His heart ached like it was being stabbed over and over and over again. Although, maybe it was every time Paul’s breath hitched, and he broke down again against him… “Paul, I--”

“--I love him, Gene!” Paul cried out, cutting him off. He breathed out and coughed; his chest hurt too much, taking in too much misery all at once, it was overwhelming! “I- I love him! ...I- Christ… I never told him… I never…” 

“Paul--”

“I told _you!_ I told you and not him!” Paul shook his head wildly. “What the hell kind of person pulls that shit?”

Gene didn’t know what to say. What was there to say, to that? He swallowed, taking a breath, but thankfully, Paul continued, not even waiting for a response.

“A- And I kept doing it! I was pushing him away way before you! I thought-- I thought it couldn’t get serious, when it already was. Fuck… I thought once he got married it was gonna cool off, stop, even… shit,” and he started to shudder through a laugh, “Shit, we played for his fucking wedding, what a trip… I felt like a fraud, I…”

Gene rubbed his back, rocking them both back and forth as much as their positions would allow, gently scratching his nails over Paul’s back and humming softly. He just hummed along to the first melody that came to mind, doing his best to offer a comforting shoulder for his best friend to lean on.

When Paul pulled back with a shuddering sigh, Gene quickly reached out to wipe the tears away from his cheeks, freezing mid-motion once he realized how intimate of a gesture that was. But Paul graced him with a wobbly smile, turning his cheek into the touch and letting his eyes flutter shut.

Brushing his thumbs across the streams of tears, Gene said, “You don’t have to say any more right now if you don’t want to, Paul.”

“I… I want to…” Paul whispered hoarsely, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “...Just a bit more… I know you wanna know, Gene… I do, I really do know… I’ve been hurting you, too… I should’ve just told you all of this before… well, all of this.” he croaked.

“You were scared. After the way I acted, I don’t blame you.”

“No, no, just-- just listen, okay?” Gnawing on his lip now. Easier to talk when he didn’t have to look at him, look at anything. Some part of him felt low, telling Gene all this, confessing everything as if he were his therapist instead of his best friend. But he felt like he had to. There was so much, too much, poisoning him right now. “The first time we fucked after the wedding, I didn’t even feel that bad about it. I was just surprised. I remember Ace looking at me after like… I remember thinking he wanted me to, to say something about it. But I didn’t. I didn’t say anything.” 

He opened his eyes again, expecting to see some change in Gene’s expression, maybe bitterness, maybe disgust. All he saw was a patient, soft look on his face, and it settled the poison trying to seep into his heart.

“...I didn’t say anything to him. I should’ve. I should’ve had the balls to ask him what we were to each other. What we were gonna do about it. He loves Jeanette, too, I know he does--I know--” Paul took a couple uneven breaths before managing to speak again. “But all I did was keep prodding about the same old shit as always. About the drugs, about his playing--”

“There wasn’t anything wrong with that. I’ve done the same thing.”

“You don’t get it. With you, it’s not-- it’s not constant. With me, it’s all the time. Just… just continual. Toward Ace and Peter and you, too. I get so fucking nervous, I feel like I’m gonna jump right out of my skin, like everyone’s staring right at me and the only thing I can do is point at someone else. Tell them what they’re doing wrong. How they fucked up. Make them feel just as shitty as I do. I’m so-- I’m so fucked-up, I can’t…”

“Paul… Paul, stop--”

“I fuck up everything I touch! Every relationship! I couldn’t let myself be happy with him or any of my girlfriends or--” he cut himself off, hopelessly, before starting to blurt again, “I started liking _you!_ I knew you wouldn’t go for it and that just made it easier!” 

“Paul--”

Paul cut him off with a faint curse. “Goddammit…! D- Did you know I’ve had these feelings for years? How pathetic… I’m such a goddamn coward, and I couldn’t ever just say something or ask anything from you. … Ace… H- He wasn’t any help. He never considered you like I did, never saw you in the same light I always did...” Paul rambled on, softly. “I- I gotta sound like a fuckin’ teenager… getting a crush on my best friend cause he’s so awesome and headstrong, always knowing what he wanted out of life and how to reach for what he needed. A- And it wasn’t sexual at first! I… I just kept having these thoughts, and they didn’t go away! Hell, I think they got stronger after we made it big…”

Gene grimaced in sympathy. “You’re not a coward, Paul…” he told him, running a hand through Paul’s hair and even brushing his bangs out of his face. “You didn’t know what… I guess, you may not have known everything you wanted from me then. Hell, if it's any consolation, I didn’t have my feelings about you straightened out when we met. I thought you were sort of this douchey kid--”

Paul’s head snapped up so quick, he almost knocked himself against Gene’s chin. “Gene--”

“Well, I did! I’m not lying when I say that… Aww, c’mon, we’re being honest here…” Gene murmured, his hand moving Paul’s head back down to his chest. His fingers twirled a curly lock in between his fingers, tugging at it ever so slightly, and it earned a little huff from the lead singer. He pressed his face back down against his front and sighed, feeling a great deal of tension surprisingly leave him. Having Gene comfort him like this- after everything, too- it was absolutely heaven for him.

“Gene… I,” Paul muttered, “I’m sorry I never said a word. I just sat by, I guess, watching you drag all those girls around behind you. One after another, two after three… I couldn’t fight the curiosity… It kept building and building up in me. I wanted to know. I wanted to talk about it… I did talk about it…”

“Ace?”

Paul gave a weak nod. “We talked about a lot of things… Not just sex. Dreams, family, old jobs, what Ace would’ve named a dog if he ever got one, heh.” Paul laughed, but it sounded so broken and lost. “I- I just kept going on and on and on about you, I guess. At first just complaining about how you were getting more chicks than both of us-- God, as if it wasn’t obvious why-- how you kept taking those girls’ pictures for your wall, wondering what you were seeing in them, what they could give you that… that I couldn’t. Ace… Ace laughed at me at first- not mean-spiritedly, but he just thought it was… He thought it was cute. Cute of me getting a crush on my best friend. Cute of me falling for a guy so straight he had a revolving door of women lined up for him at all times. Fucking downright adorable that I gushed over little things like your cologne or the way you threw your hair up when we did our makeup.”

“...It’s a spartan warrior hairstyle, it’s not that cute, really,” Gene said, weakly trying to defend a bit of his own image despite the gripping feeling in his chest that told him otherwise. Luckily, Paul didn’t take the comment as anything mean or him trying to shift the focus of their talk.

“That’s the thing, though! I thought it was cute! I loved all the energy and focus you put into KISS. Goddamn… When we sat down together to write lyrics and hum out a few tunes… Gene, I swear… I love those moments and hold them close…” Paul said, honest and heartfelt.

“I… I miss those moments, myself, Paul…” Gene admitted, gently, pulling Paul closer, resting his cheek against the crown of the singer’s head, and rubbing at the back of Paul’s neck. “I know, trust me. I really miss those moments… I lo… I enjoyed them so much with you…”

“You know what I really remember?” Paul started to laugh, just a little. “When we decided we were gonna busk the streets with those acoustic guitars we had… we weren’t even in Wicked Lester yet… and we just sang all those Beatles songs and made, what, five bucks each…”

“Then one of your neighbors yelled, _‘Hey, Stanley’_ and threw us a quarter.”

“Aw, fuck, yeah… that was pretty embarrassing. And the next time we tried it, the cops kicked us out for loitering. But… I remember thinking then, damn, I’m having a lot of fun with this guy. I thought, hey, we could work together and really… really make something. And we did. I… no matter what, I’m glad for that.”

“Me, too.” Gene sighed, rubbing his hand from Paul’s neck to smooth down his back. “Simpler times… Innocent times…”

“...He got mad, you know?” Paul spoke up, breaking the bit of peace that had settled between them.

“Hmm?” Gene hummed, “Who? Ace?”

“Yes,” Paul whispered, nuzzling his face against Gene’s chest. “He got so upset when I used to go on and on about you for nights on end. ...Damn, I remember… He got so irritated, he just started blurting out random ideas for me to follow. _‘Hey, Paulie, just tell him and proposition him, it’ll be fine~’_ ” Paul tried to do a little impersonation but his voice could hardly manage it with how broken it was this evening. “ _‘Just grab a pack of cookies and ask him out on a date! He’ll go for it!’_ ”

“...Well, if you had cookies--”

“Gene,” Paul sighed, not bothering to glance up this time. His voice carried the exasperation, plenty. “Really?”

“Sorry… Go on.”

“I… Damn, I just kept telling him no. Telling him I couldn’t back you into a corner like that- not you, you’re my best friend, it’d be a shitty thing to do… But Ace kept rambling on with these ideas and schemes for me. I’d tell him to shut up, but… I was kind of relieved he didn’t stop with it, because then I could fool myself into thinking we weren’t serious. Maybe he was trying to fool himself, too, I don’t know. Months went by, and-” he rubbed his face down his front in a bit of shame. “You remember the party? The cab ride?”

“How could I forget?” It was honest, brutally so. It didn’t hurt, though, it was just the fact of the matter.

“Yeah… Well, I was drunk, Ace was drunk, I remember leaning over to him and whispering about you. I laughed, he laughed, and he told me he had the best idea ever! I told him I had one, too! I wanted to have you that night, and he wanted to have that happen for me… I about kissed him right then and there in the club ’cause I was just so happy and warm over how much he cared…” Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes once more, but Paul simply blinked them away. “I got more wasted than I meant to… I remember being thrown in the cab, and Ace landing on top of me… He pulled me real close and whispered something like, _‘Let’s have some fun~ Don’t worry, Paulie, I know this’ll get Gene reeeaaal hot and bothered~’_. … You know the rest…”

“Yeah.” Gene exhaled. “Yeah, I do. I… God, I…” He was at a loss again. He didn’t know how to reassure Paul or anyone else through words, not when touch was so much easier. But he needed both right now, Gene knew he needed both. He swallowed and tried again. “I shouldn’t have… I took everything at face value. I thought you both only fooled around when you were drunk and got me involved for the hell of it. I- I didn’t want it to be any more complicated than that. Hell, I didn’t even want to _think_ about it again. But I did.”

“I- It was stupid. I shouldn’t have ever--”

“Don’t say that,” Gene cut him off, brusquely. “You don’t need to apologize for--” For wanting me, he thought, but couldn’t manage to eke out. “I was driving myself crazy over it for months. I even thought about asking for a room on another floor from you two on tours, can you believe that?”

“Was it that loud?”

“No, I-- _Paul_ …” Just sitting on the bed without support was getting less and less comfortable. Groaning, Gene shifted over, motioning for Paul to follow as he moved to lean back against the headboard. “I kept wondering about what you were doing. I wanted to join in again, but…”

“But what?” Paul shook his head. “We would’ve let you.”

“Even after all the shit I put you two through? ...Paul,” Gene sighed, leaned his head back. “Paul, c’mon. Wouldn’t you have resented it?”

“Why would I have resented it?” Paul shrugged. “I… I mean, me and Ace both… when we started, we always blamed it on the alcohol…”

“Stop being obtuse,” Gene groused. “It wasn’t the same. I doubt you were ever yanking his hair demanding he explain himself.”

“I- I never asked him to explain himself… I just took it all in…” Paul told him, softly. “It was different after spending years together… W- When I wanted to bring you in, Ace told me not to expect the same things from when we first began. He said you’d want a one-night-stand at best, and if I wasn’t okay with that, we shouldn’t bother. I knew he was right. I listened… I just… just didn’t expect everything to happen the way it did.” he curled in a little closer to Gene and sighed. “I know you’re the type of guy who likes an explanation or some sort of facts. I should’ve been there to offer them when you were looking for them…”

“Well… We’re talking now, aren’t we?” Gene murmured, leaning down a bit to rest his head atop of Paul’s once more. “Better late than never?”

“It should’ve been sooner…”

“I know. ...I know, and now I’m just sorry it wasn’t,” he told him. “If I could, then I’d go back… go back and just slap myself in the face.”

“Oh c’mon… We all know you wouldn’t hurt one of your best features, Gene.” Paul smiled just a little below him.

Gene gently nudged his chin down against the top of his head and chuckled, “Maybe just a little tap on the cheek, then. Or a punch in the gut, would that work for you?”

“If I got to see it, then maybe…”

“No, you’ve gotta take my word for it. That’s how Houdini died.”

Paul snorted.

“God, I swear, you know the most useless trivia bullshit of anyone.” He’d always thought _that_ was cute, too, as if he’d ever needed any more proof of how hilariously pointless his crush was. Paul shut his eyes for a second, trying to enjoy the moment, so near to how things used to be, so near and yet nothing like them at all. It felt too comfortable, resting up against Gene like this. He didn’t deserve it. Not after all he’d owned up to. And especially not when Ace-- not when Ace was out there on the town angry, drunk, and probably on his way to another suspension on his license. He slumped slightly before scooting off of Gene’s lap. “Sorry, I… it’s late. I’d better go back to my room.”

Paul swung his legs over the side of the bed, but he didn’t move to get up. He just bowed his head and curled in on himself once more. He didn’t want to leave, honestly… Gene was being so nice, so comforting to him, especially after everything they had been through. But his mind kept wandering back to Ace and what he would think… crawling right back to Gene like some wounded, stupid animal… betraying him… No… no, they were done. They were over. What they had was finished way before Gene ever came into the picture, eroded by Ace’s drug use and Paul’s neuroses. They’d just kept on going because-- because--

His fingers balled into sloppy fists by his side. Why should he have cared about what Ace would think? He didn’t! Ace was a disaster with or without him! Always had been, as long as he’d known him! A drunk and an addict the whole seven years they’d-- he shouldn’t have cared. He shouldn’t care. He… he had to go, had to clear his head. Had to face up to himself without Gene propping him up. Back to a bed he hadn’t been in that whole night. Back to four corners and a TV and a fridge full of alcohol he wanted to smash to pieces. Back to being completely alone. ...Christ, how that very thought paralyzed him, right now.

“G- Gene…!” Paul croaked out, weakly. He gripped the bed, his fingers digging in deep into the sheets, and he choked back another sob. “I- I don’t wanna leave…”

All it took was one rough hand landing on his shoulder, and Paul was collapsing back into Gene’s awaiting arms. As he fell, his own arms hung limply at his sides, his face pressed into Gene’s neck as he cried, the ugly sort of crying that he had been doing earlier, snorting, hiccupping and a running nose and everything. He was a wreck once more...

“Sssh, sshh, hey, Paul, it’s alright.” Gene said, softly for him. Gently, he wrapped Paul up in a hug, one hand cupping the back of Paul’s neck and the other stroking soothingly up and down his spine. “It’s alright. You can stay, you can stay as long as you want, Paul.”

“I- I… Gene…!” The words weren’t coming to him. It was just pure, raw emotion pouring straight out of him, and he couldn’t stop it. He just gave in and let Gene take him in his arms and begin to wrap him up in the blanket on the bed. By the time Gene had him all wrapped up and swaddled, Paul was still sniffling, but much calmer.

He shifted only a little beside Gene as the bassist laid down next to him, his movements slow and sluggish after such a draining evening. Paul tipped his head and tucked it in the crook of Gene’s neck, feeling much too tired to try and fight any more of this tonight. Gene returned the affection by wrapping his arms around him and holding him as close as possible.

It was warm, it was loving, it was more than he could have ever imagined his night turning out to be. Gene leaned down and pressed a kiss atop Paul’s head. This… All of this was wonderful.

He cleared his throat a little, then leaned down and lovingly whispered to him words that he could not express plainly or in a way Paul could understand right now. It may have been a way around the whole truth of his feelings once again, but dammit, this was his first step that he was taking on his own into this. If he had to do this, then he was going to do it his way- not Ace’s, not Paul’s- his own!

_"פול, אני אוהב אותך. אני אוהב אותך יותר ממה שאתה יודע עכשיו. אתה החבר הכי טוב שלי בעולם כולו. אני לא אומר לך את זה מספיק. ... אני רוצה לקחת את הצער שלך ולהביא לך רק שמחה ואהבה."_

Paul raised his head just a little in confusion at the words but couldn’t find a reason to say anything about it when Gene was speaking so softly and lovingly to him. All he needed to understand was the promise and heart of the tone of his voice to get what Gene was probably telling him.

_"שקט עכשיו. לישון, לנוח, אל תדאגי לשום דבר כרגע, סטארצ'ילד."_

Paul crooned out a sweet sound as he finished, then soon fell victim to the slow, steady heartbeat under his ear, and Gene’s fingers playing idly through his hair. It wasn’t long before Paul fell into a heavy, much-needed slumber.

 

 

The airport was quiet. It was rainy, miserable weather and almost eleven at night, and Paul was struggling to stay awake as he stood by Gene. His head kept on bobbing, his curls falling down beside his eyes as he kept glancing between Gene and the roadies and security by their side with all of their luggage. Paul bit his bottom lip, anxiously, desperately wanting to lean up and cuddle against Gene. Have the bassist run his hands down his back to comfort him, ground him in reality. Remind him over and over again that things were going to work out… things were going to be better… 

Paul sighed, shakily, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. He bit his lip again and drew his eyes up to Gene in a pathetic woebegone expression.

To his right, Gene escaped his gaze by glancing down at his watch. Their limo driver was supposed to arrive over twenty minutes ago. Gene shook his head, cracking a knuckle on each hand. He tried not to glance over to Paul, keep from drawing any sort of attention to how they were standing barely a foot apart from each other. He had to take in a deep breath, then exhale, reminding himself that to everyone else they were simply bandmates who were comfortable with one another after spending so many years together. No one was thinking anything about them. Not with Gene’s notorious reputation for womanizing, anyway. He leaned his head back and sighed.

Paul’s hand twitched at his side, like a smoker looking for a cigarette to fill a void. Gene shut his eyes and bit back a groan. He could tell all Paul wanted to do was hold his hand, hell, he really needed him to just brush his fingers against his right now and make him feel alright. They were alright, they were going to be alright. Gene sighed, again, trying to hold back curses for their late driver.

It was getting harder and harder to stand around and wait outside for their damn driver, though. Gene huffed, trying not to sound too pissed off and give more Paul something else to stress about. It was bad enough that their flight had been delayed by six hours, but then the damn TSA wanted to give Gene grief over all the metal studs on his black leather jacket, the loose change he had forgotten in his jean pockets, him forgetting to remove his belt and boots. It had been a nightmare….

But dammit. Gene shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts a bit. He had to remind himself that all of that was small potatoes compared to everything else that was going on in their lives.

He opened his eyes, staring up at the cloudy, miserable sky above through the clear glass awning and breathed out. Hell… Hell, he didn’t even want to consider how Ace was handling himself right now… Sure, he had Jeanette, but when she was just as fucked up as him on drugs and alcohol, what help could she be? Besides, Ace’s problems with Paul seemed like they were much bigger for him, much more complicated to try to explain to someone like his wife. Shit, did Jeanette even _know_ about him and Paul? Gene didn’t know if it would be better or worse on either of them if she was aware, and he didn’t honestly have the heart to ask Paul right now.

Gene knew the path the lead guitarist would probably take to deal with his problems. The same damn path he’d been taking since their first tour, the same hellish cocktail of booze and cocaine. ...All he could hope for, though, was that it didn’t end up with him getting a phone call about Ace in a morgue.

“...Gene?”

Paul moved an inch closer to him. Gene glanced away but did not move back like his mind was screaming for him to do. Paul didn’t say another word, just stood by him and waited for his reply, any sort of reply he might have had for him.

“...This guy is sooo gonna be fired,” Gene muttered, softly. A few of the roadies around them smirked at the comment, but no one had anything to add to it. Normal conversation, normal rockstar complaining. Nothing new, nothing to hint about anything, especially when Paul boldly moved another inch closer to him. Gene swallowed, dryly.

Then, at long last, the limo was pulling around the curve of the airport’s parking lot. Gene sighed, releasing a bit of pent-up tension he had built up in his shoulders.

The second the limo pulled up, the roadies got to work throwing their luggage into the trunk and their security checked with them one last time. Gene did most of the talking for them since Paul had fallen quiet and just stood there glancing at the ground and twiddling his thumbs. Damn… They needed this time off more than he thought.

Someone pulled out an umbrella from the side, but Gene waved it off. They were two feet from the limo, they didn’t need- well, Paul didn’t need anyone else but him getting close to him right now. He just stuck by Gene, leaning back into the touch of Gene’s hand as it landed on the small of his back to guide him towards the limo. No one paid attention to it, or Gene didn’t care at that point. Either way, being escorted into the limo was the best thing to happen to him that whole evening.

Paul moved over in the backseat, looking out the window as Gene finished up talking to their roadies. Rain drizzled down on the window in a steady beat as Gene finally maneuvered his way down beside of him. Someone shut the door, and thanks to the darkly tinted windows, Gene was quick to gently gather Paul up into his lap and wrap his arms around him.

Paul relaxed into Gene’s hold almost instantly. It was kind of embarrassing, craving it this much, needing that touch, that reassurance. The whole week he’d felt like an off-and-on wreck. Every time he’d thought he was improving, something would set him off again into thinking about Ace. It didn’t have to be something as painfully obvious as one of KISS’ songs blasting on the radio; sometimes it was just yanking open his suitcase to find Ace’s socks stuffed in one of the corners, or looking up from the hotel balcony at night to see all Ace’s stars. He’d pointed out Jendell not long after they’d first made out, smiling as if it were some warm secret he was sharing. Paul had told him, flatly, that Ace was just pointing beyond the reaches of Orion’s Belt… and then Ace had shook his head and grinned again. _“You’re wrong, Paulie,”_ he’d said, _“but that’s okay.”_

That’s okay.

He’d talked to Ace all of twice that week, over the phone both times like the coward he was. He wanted it all to be up in the air-- God knows they’d had spats and brief breakups before, no matter what Gene thought about being the root of their problems-- but he knew it wasn’t. Ace knew it wasn’t. They’d ended on a weak point each conversation. Paul had asked about Jeanette, how she was doing eight months in like this. Ace had asked about Gene.

He hadn’t given Ace an answer on him yet, but he knew he’d have to soon.

It was just so much to deal with all at once. It wasn’t helping Paul out any that Ace hadn’t even said or asked about anything else. He just jumped right to asking about his status with Gene… asking him if he had already moved onto him… asking if he had already gotten Gene to loosen his pants for him. Now that he thought about it, Paul knew that asking was too nice a term- demanding was more like it. Starting off the phone calls in a drunk stupor only to end in angry, slurring rants that devolved into both of them crying over the phone. 

Paul couldn’t take it the first time it happened, and just ended up slamming the phone back down on its box, wrapping his arms around himself and slipping to the floor of the booth and crying. If Gene hadn’t shown up ten minutes later to collect him, then Paul was certain he would’ve just sat there all night, bawling and choking on his own tears. God, he hated that about himself, being so damn dependent, defining himself by relationships and status instead of anything innate, because he didn’t _have_ anything innate to fall back on. Gene sure as hell wasn’t like that. Ace, either.

That second phone call hadn’t been much better. Ace had called Paul’s hotel room, rambling weakly about fixing everything, talking to Jeanette, the three of them, making it all right. They all needed each other, he’d said. _You gotta make this better for me, Paulie--_ but he’d been so loaded Paul could barely understand him. When he’d promised, desperately, that he’d even get clean, if that was what Paul wanted, Paul couldn’t swallow back a bitter laugh as he said he didn’t believe him. Then it had all gone back to Gene again before Paul hung up the phone.

Through the past week, Gene had been far more patient than Paul merited. Anticipating everything. Even now Gene didn’t seem sick of him. Even now their limo was headed over to Gene’s place just because Paul didn’t want to be alone. 

Gene pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and suddenly Paul became aware of the tears burning in his eyes. He blinked them away and brushed his sleeve along his cheek to dry them.

“G- Gene…!” he stuttered, desperately trying to find his voice.

“Shhh, sshhhhh, don’t do this to yourself right now, Paul.” Gene told him, softly. His hands moved up and gently combed through his bushy hair, successfully getting Paul to relax down against him. “We have all week to talk things out, we don’t have to rush anything along.”

“...Bu- But,” Paul shut his eyes and threw his head down against his chest. “Gene… Gene, I--” he stopped himself, then tried again. “I’m so tired of this… all of this, right now…”

Gene rubbed down his back with one hand, keeping his other buried in Paul’s curls. He nodded in understanding, then murmured, “That’s fine. That’s why we have time off. We’re gonna talk… I’m gonna listen… We’ll work together, Paul, don’t you worry. We’ll take it nice and slow… as long as you want it to be.”

Paul just weakly nodded against him, losing his voice once again and finding it just so much easier to collapse into Gene’s warm arms. He purred softly as he relaxed, loving how warm and solid and real Gene was beneath him. A strange, dream-like look crossed his face for a moment, as if he still couldn’t really believe that this was happening. He was truly boneless against him and wrapped in his hold, even more so as Gene idly played with the ends of his curls.

Paul just closed his eyes, listening to the deep strumming bass beat of Gene’s heart under his ear as the limo drove on.

Gene watched as Paul started to doze off, unable or unwilling to wipe the sentimental look from his face as he did. Here there was no one to see, no one to judge. More freeing than it should have been. When Paul started drooling, though, Gene carefully turned Paul’s face away from his jacket. There was a limit to what he found endearing, even with his best friend. An hour in and his stomach growled-- the airplane food earlier hadn’t been terrible, but by the time he’d coaxed Paul to do more than poke at the Jello, his own tray had gotten cold. He’d plowed through it on impulse anyway, but it hadn’t felt like enough.

“Hey,” he called up to the limo driver through the phone beside them. “Let’s get some dinner.”

From his lap, Paul grunted and shifted, shaking his head mutely.

“What, you’re not hungry?”

“It’s not that…” Paul yawned, wiping a trail of spit off his chin. “I don’t wanna sit down somewhere and have to fend people off while I’m trying to eat.”

“Takeout, then. What do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Paul murmured, resting his head back down against Gene’s chest. “Get whatever you want.”

“Chinese takeout? There’s a place not too far from my house, so we don’t even have to go out of our way for it.”

“Sure, whatever you want.”

“Hey, call ahead,” Gene explained over the phone to the driver. “Tell ’em we’re swinging by and give them this order…”

Paul just shut his eyes, feeling much more content to go back to listening to the steady beat of Gene’s heart than to listen anything anyone was saying right now. He hadn’t so much as napped on the plane, and now he was in a sort of happily drained, comfortable state he didn’t really want to come out of. When Gene had finished handing off his order, Paul heard the click of the phone being set back down, then felt Gene’s hands come back down to rest against his back and rub him gently.

Gene hummed a low tune in his left ear, brushing his nose against the side of Paul’s face as he did. Couldn’t have Paul going back to sleep now that they weren’t even thirty minutes away from his place. Trying to stir him awake a second time would only result in a grumpier Paul, and Gene wasn’t sure how he would handle that tonight.

“Mmhm,” Paul frowned as Gene continually nuzzled against him, nudging him and effectively keeping him from falling back to sleep. “Gene…! C’mon… I’m tired.” 

“I know you’re tired- hell, you’re exhausted. Me, too,” Gene murmured quietly to him. As tired as he was, though, he kept face and did most- if not all- of the talking for them on the trip over. He did it for Paul, did it to keep him as calm and collected as possible. It had worked so far, but now he only needed to keep at it for just a bit longer before both of them could crash. “But c’mon, we’re almost back home. You can rest all you want when we get there.”

“We’re still gonna have to heat up the food,” Paul whined, but he did rub at his eyes a few times and start cracking his knuckles in an effort to wake up a little more. “All right, all right…”

He’d sooner die than tell Gene how good the word home felt, even if it was probably just a slip of the tongue. It just made him feel like some stupid teenager, finding secret undertones and meanings in every glance and every sentence. No good. He tried to answer back to most of Gene’s conversation, even if he was almost having to pinch himself just to keep from nodding off again, and Gene was only too happy to prod him when needed. The driver pulled into the restaurant parking lot, getting out to pick up their order.

“They really should have a drive-thru,” Gene muttered. “More economical.”

“God, no. You want everything to be like McDonalds?”

“Can’t knock that business model. They’re on the Dow now.”

Paul yawned loudly.

“Gene, I don’t care--”

The limo door opened. Paul stiffened slightly in Gene’s lap, both of them half-prepared, as always, for a pile of mousy teenagers leaning in like vultures to carrion, but it was just the driver, bag of takeout in hand. He didn’t even blink at the sight of them. Gene sighed and nudged Paul over just enough to retrieve the takeout and set it in the floorboard beside his boots.

The second after he set down the food and set back in his seat, Paul was swiftly making his way back onto the entirety of his lap. Gene’s head lolled back slightly as Paul snuggled up real close to him, rubbing his cheek against Gene’s sternum and all but purring atop of him. The bassist wrapped his arms around him once more and pet him carefully, softly. 

Paul’s neediness had been something he had been dealing with all week long, and while it could eventually grate on his nerves, it always surprised him how much positive, warm touch his best friend craved and needed from another soul. Had Paul always been like this, and he’d just never been in a position to notice it? Gene had been on vacations with him and his various girlfriends between tours (Paul’s sharing his preference for busty blondes had meant Gene spent those vacations biting back pass after pass towards them, to his own eternal regret), and while Paul had been more than eager to hang all over them, he hadn’t seemed to act much different than, well, an adolescent that had just learned how to score. If Paul cuddled with any of them, he definitely hadn’t seen it.

Except he had. With Ace.

The wafting scent of the Chinese food, luckily, was plenty distraction from intrusive thoughts like that. He’d gone overboard with the order, too, both because he knew Paul had barely eaten all day and because he’d had a craving for potstickers. There were three heaping Styrofoam boxes of takeout in there, plus a couple of the small paper ones with handles, for the rice. Mongolian beef, moo goo gai pan, spring rolls, potstickers… Gene really didn’t give a damn for the authenticity of any of the dishes, just the taste, and right now the smell alone was killing him.

It seemed as if Paul was not immune to the delicious smells either. He raised his head ever so slightly and sniffed the air, inhaling deeply. From below, his stomach rumbled and growled at him, lowly, begging for a taste of one of those spring rolls right about now.

“Hungry?” Came Gene’s low voice, as thick with sweetness as it had been for the past week for him, but now with slight humor to it.

“Maybe…” Paul hummed. A bit of blush rose to his face when his stomach growled out again, this time stretching out its roar. Gene just smiled and leaned down to brush his lips beside Paul’s cheek, murmuring,

“I think that’s a yes.”

“Oh, don’t be an ass,” Paul retorted, almost shyly, dropping his head against Gene’s chest and nuzzling into him. From below, Paul blinked as Gene’s own stomach growled, deeply rumbling against his ear. He gave a little smile and paid a glance upwards to an almost bashful-looking Gene. “Hungry?” he mocked, playfully.

“Hey, I spent most of today trying to get you to eat…” Gene trailed in protest, but Paul’s smile just grew. He bent over, grabbing the bag of takeout and setting it down on the empty seat next to them. After that, he started opening each box in turn, looking for something, anything, that didn’t require utensils first.

“Why have a limo if you can’t eat in it?”

That logic was both far too sound and too far from prissy to be coming from Paul. Gene almost said so, but before he could so much as open his mouth, Paul had lifted one of the potstickers to his lips.

“Careful, it’s still pretty hot,” he warned. The look on his face was very nearly as tantalizing as the food. “C’mon, open up.”

Of course Paul would make him give into temptation first. Of course. And be brazen enough to start feeding him in the limo, to boot. Gene’s flush deepened, but he opened his mouth.

One corner of Paul’s mouth quirked up as Gene’s lips closed around his fingers holding the potsticker. It wasn’t hot enough to burn, but it was very warm as Paul’s fingers released it and let it fall. Gene pulled back, tongue flicking out at Paul’s fingertips before he began to chew. He had hardly finished the one before there was another awaiting entrance to his mouth. He may not have completely understood where Paul was coming from with this, but he wasn’t going to complain about having a pretty thing straddling him and feeding him delicious food.

Paul wasn’t rushing him, either. He let Gene savor the taste, chew and swallow before nudging the next potsticker against his lips. By the sixth, however, Gene glanced up and saw that look in Paul’s eyes- the same look that always took over in photoshoots and whenever he pranced up on stage. It wasn’t as wild as the last time he saw it, but it was there, swirling around in those beautiful chocolate eyes. He swallowed, then about choked when Paul suddenly leaned in to kiss him and lick away the grease that was leftover on his lips.

Gene hadn’t expected the kiss, honestly. Well, he expected many a kiss by the time they got back to his place and had talk through some more things- but not right now! Not that he was complaining, however. Any pleasurable kiss from Paul was more than welcomed by him.

“Leave room for dessert, okay?” Paul spoke softly, eyes never leaving Gene’s for a moment.

Gene drew in a quick breath, suddenly feeling the heat rise some to his cheeks. Damn… He should order Chinese food more often if Paulie was going to act like this… Goddamn…

“Don’t worry about me, I got plenty of room, Paul.” Gene grinned back at him and patted his stomach for emphasis. “Ahh, but maybe I should stop soon…” he didn’t really have a reason _why_ , except that Paul’s voice in the back of his head was barking “diet” at him every other second. Thankfully, the real Paul’s voice stepped in to silence it.

“What for? You don’t wanna have to reheat all of this food now, do you Gene?” Paul asked him, teasingly waving yet another yummy potsticker in front of his lips.

Gene gulped.

“Besides, we’re on a break right now… I can be lenient with you and let you cheat just a little~ C’mon, eat up~” Paul encouraged, pushing the potsticker right up against Gene’s lips. They opened up once more, his tongue flicking out to capture the treat and brush against Paul’s fingertips all at the same time. 

Gene grinned. That was all the prompting he needed.

He finished off another dozen without a problem. Even less chances of a problem even occurring when Paul kept leaning up and brushing his cheek against his own. Whispering a dirty flirt here and there and promising more if Gene kept going. 

They soon started talking between bites, Paul eventually taking every other one to his own mouth and nibbling on it after stuffing two into Gene’s awaiting, open maw. Paul was considerably slower than Gene, but that was mainly due to that fact that he didn’t have the stomach to eat as much or as fast as the bassist. That and Gene had pretty much always been in the mood to eat. 

By the time they got to the last two potstickers in the box, Paul had to stop himself. Riding in a limo and eating while his emotions were still swirling about in his mind was not the best combination ever. Gene, on the other hand, happily finished the last two for himself, sneaking them when Paul looked away only for a second. 

Gene gave a _“Whoof,”_ as he began to sit back and relax once more, giving out an indulgent groan and leaning back to rub a bit at his more pleasantly filled gut. “Mmhm, we should do this more often, Paulie~” he commented, lazily while his stomach worked to digest his meal, gurgling loudly.

“Hahaha, then I’d have to put you on stricter diets~” Paul teased him, poking him in the gut. “Ah, but I promised dessert, did I not? Did you leave room?”

“I got plenty of room,” Gene drummed his fingers unashamedly on his belly. He rubbed his hand across it with a sort of crooked smile.

“Mmn, of course you do,” Paul murmured, trying to remember how far off they even were from Gene’s place now. A glance out the window didn’t tell him much; for whatever reason, Gene’s place still, after all these years, seemed like it should be that little house in Queens he shared with his mom and stepdad and the boarder upstairs. Just latent nostalgia talking. He reached over, smooth and easy, sliding a thumb across Gene’s lips before slipping it casually into his own mouth. “And I’ve got plenty of plans…” 

“I bet,” Gene said, trying and failing to play off at least some of his anticipation and excitement. He was practically transfixed just at the sight of Paul idly licking and gnawing his thumb, that heavy, heady look on his face. God, it made him want to have him right there in the limo. He grunted softly, taking Paul’s wrist in his hand and tugging it away. “You tease…”

Paul’s expression shifted then. Oh, he didn’t move from Gene’s lap, but the sex-laden look in his eyes and the quirk of his mouth faded abruptly. Gene didn’t seem to notice at first, and was actually trying to pull him in tighter, when Paul stiffened up, pursing his mouth tight as it hit him.

What was he doing here? A whole week he’d been a nervous wreck over Ace, and here he was now, crawling all over Gene and feeding him like nothing had ever happened? Gene had even promised they’d take things slow, feel each other out and decide if they were going to make a go of it-- and here Paul was acting like it was a sure thing. No, a continuing thing. He was jumping in too fast. Trying to turn Gene into a rebound, craving that same familiar touch and intimacy he’d shared so long with Ace-- fuck, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want that, and Gene didn’t deserve that. He swallowed, eyes sinking to the floorboard, and quietly slipped off Gene’s lap, sinking back to his seat.

Gene’s brows scrunched together in confusion as Paul moved back down to his own seat. He was truly lost for a moment, wondering where in the world that Starchild confidence had disappeared to in only a split second. After a week of dealing with Paul’s mood swings, though, he was soon quick to realize another storm cloud of worry and fear had sailed straight into the lead singer’s mind. Gene frowned and encircled him with his arms, pulling him close and ignoring the whine as he did so.

“Gene- Gene, no,” Paul shook his head, gently hitting his cheek with his bushy hair. “We can’t- We can’t, we’re going too fast… I’m making this go too fast.” Despite his words, however, they didn’t stop him from nuzzling underneath Gene’s chin and inhaling deep. “You… Mhmm, you said you wanted to take things slow… I’m rushing it- rushing us--”

“Don’t overthink things, don’t do it, Paul.” Gene shushed him, holding him close against him.

“I’m not overthinking, I-- listen, I know I get way too eager, too quick, I don’t want to--” Paul fumbled for the words, muffled though they were by Gene’s shirt. He finally pulled his head away long enough to get out, “I don’t want to screw things up before they get started. That’s all.”

“Paul, you’re not screwing anything up.” If anything, all this was screwing up was Gene’s hard-on, but he bit back commenting on that at the sight of Paul’s still-furrowed brow.

“I am, just--” He didn’t know if he could explain it to Gene, or even if he should. He exhaled. “Let’s hold off for now, all right? We’re… we’ve got to almost be at your place by now anyway.”

“We already are,” Gene muttered, paying a glance out the window. They were driving right past the fence guarding it right now. Gene sighed, then leaned down to press a kiss atop Paul’s head. He was going to need it after they would have to separate and walk into the house after the driver, who’d be moving all their luggage inside.

The marble structures on the outside loomed over them as they neared the front of the mansion, columns and spires menacing in a way that inert stone should not have been able to convey. Paul chalked it up to it being something of Gene’s own personal taste and design. Perhaps he told the builders he wanted something unsettling and inspired from the unauthorized adaptation of Bram Stoker's "Dracula," Nosferatu. Whatever it was, Paul was certain the inside probably had a similar feel since Gene hardly even lived in it half the time.

The limo pulled right around to the front of the mansion, easing to a complete stop right as Gene’s door reached the steps leading up to the large wooden door at the entrance. Paul absentmindedly wondered why Gene felt the need to have a knocker on each of the solid wooden doors when no one was even here most of the time. Of course, Paul sighed, each knocker was of Gene’s own Demon persona, so maybe that was the only sort of answer he needed. There’s egomaniacs, and then there’s KISS... 

Gene gently unwrapped his arms from around Paul and nudged him off of his lap, ignoring the pout he got for doing so. As much as he would have preferred to have kept Paul straddling him for as long as they wanted, they were getting out of the limo, and that was sort of difficult to do when one had a lead singer’s thighs brushing up against his own… 

Gene sucked in a quick breath, then exhaled. Paul, annoyingly, seemed fine, but Gene’s hard-on hadn’t fully gone away from their little feeding session, still. He filed it away, for once, as something to consider later and perhaps take care of in the shower. Yeah, yeah. Just throwing back his head against the tiles while Paul slept in the other room with an angelic look on his face, lips parted ever so slightly... yeah, that was _exactly_ how he planned on spending the night, jerking off as hopelessly as a high schooler until the hot water ran out. Just exactly. God.

Gene clenched his teeth and turned his head to the door, biting back a curse at himself. He had to stop that line of thought before he accidentally skewered the takeout boxes now resting in his lap.

Just as the driver popped the trunk and started moving an armful of bags to the entrance, Gene opened up his door and motioned with the nod of his head for Paul to follow behind him. Paul hesitated only a moment, his hands fidgeting in his lap and eyes darting around the limo one last time before crawling out after Gene. When his boots hit the ground, Gene’s hand fell onto his shoulder smoothly as a falling leaf and gave a gentle squeeze. Paul’s own hand would’ve joined it, rested atop it, if the bassist hadn’t begun to guide him over and up the stairs to the front doors.

Gene kept him close by his side the entire time, pleasantly surprising him by not giving a damn about their driver and his thoughts. Then again, their driver was already paid to keep his mouth shut and do whatever they asked of him, and he’d probably seen worse from the Studio 54 types, but Paul was still happy nonetheless.

They stood in the front room of the mansion, leaning against the stairway and boredly watching as the driver kept going back and forth between the car and the house for their things. Paul kept glancing over to Gene, as if he were looking for some sort of direction, some sort of order to be given out. Maybe even ask him where Gene wanted him to take his bags and set them up because… Well, Paul couldn’t imagine that Gene was going to let him sleep next to him the entire time. The hotels had been one thing, comparatively noncommittal, but his home, his personal, private space-- that was too much to ask. Even he realized that would a lot for him to take in at one time.

“I don’t want this ending up like those other guys who drove off with our bags…” Gene murmured out of the blue. Paul’s eyes immediately snapped over to him from the doorway. “Remember that striped luggage case of yours that got ‘misplaced’? Yeah, sure, ‘misplaced’... That’s a word for it. Those boots of yours in there weren’t cheap, if I remember correctly.”

“You’re probably remembering right,” Paul gave a little smile. “I mean, you not remember the price of something? Oh, what a laugh! Hahah,”

“Hey, hey, watch it,” Gene smiled despite his tone. “Oh, hey, there’s the last bag now. Damn, Paul, how much makeup did you pack?”

“Oh please,” Paul gave him a look. “Most of that makeup is yours for your design. Mine’s a simple, perfect star.”

“More like a lone star by your own choice,” Gene chuckled, lightly. “Mr. Guy-Who-Was-Too-Lazy-To-Draw-A-Second-Star. I put a lotta work into mine.”

Paul raised an eyebrow, barely muffling a snort.

“You crossed Godzilla and Dracula and rolled with it…”

“...Shuddap.”

“Mr. Simmons, Mr. Stanley,” The driver walked up to them once he was done, tipping his hat.

Gene tried not to glance back at Paul as he felt him awkwardly shift some behind him. It struck him as a bit strange, but he had grown used to it somewhat after dealing with Paul’s shyness one-on-one for about a week now.

“Will that be all, sirs?”

Gene nodded, motioning for him to already start to get on his way out his front door. “Yeah, yeah. That’ll be all. And… They already paid you, so you’re good. You’re done here. Goodbye.”

Paul couldn’t tell if Gene was hurrying the driver along for him or to avoid the awkward question of a possible tip for his services, but either way he felt grateful that it would soon just be the two of them.

The second the front doors swung shut, Gene blinked and felt arms snake their way around his waist, pulling him close. Paul was nuzzling into his back, humming lowly. Gene just sort of smiled and turned around until he faced him, carefully holding the boxes of food between them.

“My bedroom’s upstairs, first door on the right,” Gene said. Paul nodded in a vague sort of way. He had been to Gene’s before, sometime last year when he'd been building the place. Sure, not all the gothic details had been installed yet at that point, but he still hadn’t really remembered it that well. Every new residence had just ended up more ridiculous and ostentatious and closed-off than the one before for both of them. But this time felt, no, this time _was_ different. Gene hadn’t taken a second to show off any custom-made countertops or stairwells-- or, more importantly, pointed out the guest bedroom Paul had figured he was going to stay in. Was it an invitation? Did he really need to analyze this? 

Gene wasn’t giving him any time to decide, fortunately, since his next steps were straight towards the kitchen.

“C’mon, we’ll warm this stuff up first.”

Another nod from Paul as he followed, leaning over the counter as Gene stuck as many boxes as he could into the admittedly large microwave at once, tearing off the tops to fit them in. He felt a little stupid, being this needy, trailing behind him like a lost puppy or something ridiculous like that. He knew himself well enough to recognize his own push-pull tendencies. God knew they’d aggravated Ace plenty, even when Paul wasn’t too depressed, the need for a touch coupled with sometimes immediate backing away. He knew he didn’t have any excuse for it now-- they were all alone, the two of them, no need to worry about anyone else. If he couldn’t relax now-- but damn it, maybe Gene really was inviting him into his bed, maybe he wasn’t reacting right-- maybe--

The microwave dinged, and, to Paul’s chagrin, Gene wasn’t moving to get any actual plates for the Chinese food.

“Gene, really, I know you have dishes.” Probably monogrammed or worse, emblazoned with the KISS emblem or one of their album covers. Paul wasn’t sure his own vanity had gotten enough out of hand that he could eat off his own face. Well, okay, maybe if it was just reflective.

Gene just handed him two of the boxes and a fork.

“Yeah, and I’m not gonna use ’em for takeout.”

“We’re not college kids here…”

“Well, _I’m_ not the college kid here,” Gene murmured, catching a look from Paul. He coughed awkwardly into his arm and gathered the rest of the food boxes into his arms. “Eh, c’mon- we’ll head on upstairs! Oh, don’t drop anything. You drop it, it counts as yours.”

“Mine? I’m hungrier than you!”

“Ahh, but can you eat as much as me? Now that is the question, Paul. That is the real question of the night.”

Paul shook his head, muttering to himself as he followed behind him once more. “...only had like six potstickers… if that… you got like thirty something… how the hell can you still be hungry...”

They ascended up the staircase, Paul following a bit on Gene’s heel, before turning to the right and going in the first room there. As Gene fiddled with the door handle with his arms and elbows, that knot of anxiety began twisting around in Paul’s gut again. Twisting, turning, rising up to grab his lungs and squeeze all the air out of him in a split second. He drew in a quick breath of air on instinct and felt his chest begin to rise and fall at a faster pace. God… Goddammit… Th- This couldn’t just be from him being about to enter Gene’s bedroom…? It just couldn’t be! It wasn’t that big of a deal! Th- They were just going to eat dinner and chat! What did he expect?! Gene had said they were going to take it slow! B- But… No. Was it Gene he was suddenly worrying over or himself?

He knew the answer to that. It still never failed to bother him. He was all out of sorts. Just all out of sorts. He didn’t think Gene understood. Even not taking into account what had happened with Ace-- as if he could, just the thought of Ace made a million pebbles lodge their way into his throat-- Paul was still overcome just by really being with Gene. It left him flitting through emotions like a moth going from one candle to another. Left him off-kilter and nervous and wanting, and feeling all the stupider for it in the face of Gene’s nonchalance. Forget his dick, Gene probably wasn’t even thinking past his food yet!

“Watch your step, by the way,” Gene said, pushing the doors open and walking into the bedroom. It was dark when the two of the entered, and Paul half expected to see cobwebs glistening in the corners, from wall to wall, dirty pornos scattered about the place, books and papers just thrown about just like Gene’s old room in his mother’s place. At the very least, he sort of expected to see proof of the room being unused, having grown dusty and haunted from neglect. 

Gene flipped on the lamps on the nightstands on both sides of his king-sized bed, though, and Paul just barely blinked at his illuminated surroundings. It was strangely devoid of a lot of what he expected. Sure, he got to see the piles of boxes and Gene’s unboxed collection of KISS merchandise that he enjoyed adding to his own private collection, but it was so weird for him to not see that small room in Queens packed with everything that Gene had ever owned up till that point in his life.

“...What?” Gene asked, noticing how Paul had fallen quiet and unresponsive.

“Nothing,” Paul sighed, wistfully. Slowly, the corners of his lips curled back ever so slightly, and he gave a single laugh and relaxed a bit for a moment. He was thankful that the familiarity and reminiscing of a conversation between them always seemed to calm him back down just a bit. “I’m just honestly surprised that you don’t have a salt shaker right on the nightstand or comic books littering the floor along with your briefs.”

Gene shook his head and laughed, “Hahah, hey! I’ll have you know that I cleaned the old place up a bit before I invited you over!”

Paul faked a gasp, dramatically. “You cleaned?! You actually cleaned? Gene… all you ever did was kick boxes around on the floor so we had a pathway to move from one end of your room to the other. Don’t lie to yourself.”

With a small twist of his lips in reluctant acceptance, Gene sat down his armfuls of food on the edge of his bed and strolled on over to the TV on its stand. An open box with VHS tapes laid by its side, awaiting their master’s hand to pluck them free from their confinement. He’d ended up abandoning the Betamax not too long after that disastrous Tom Snyder interview, half because every time he got one of them out all he could hear was Ace cackling. Gene crouched down beside the box and hummed and glanced over each tape, trying to pick out a good movie for them to watch.

Paul, meanwhile, moved towards the bed and sat on the edge of its right side next to the pillows. Though his hands were full of the takeout boxes, his fingers were still twitching or sliding down the box ever so slightly. He sighed and sat one of them down, using his now free hand to use the fork to gather up some noodles and rice.

“I’m surprised your mansion’s builders didn’t let you install a throne in here.” Paul commented, a bit absentmindedly as he twirled his fork around in the box. “Throw in some gothic candelabras, blood red drapes hanging down from the ceiling, a busty blonde in a miniskirt with no top serving you cookies and that seems like it’d be right up your alley.”

Gene laughed as he chucked a few tapes over his shoulder during his quest for the right film. “Ahhh, well, they tried to tell me to be ‘practical’ to some extent. Although, a throne would’ve been a nice touch! Hahah, but I was already lucky enough to have them install my coffin downstairs in the basement. I would’ve invited you to rest in it, but it’s mainly built for one instead of two. But hey, the bedroom works for us, too.”

Us.

Paul’s heart gave an aching throb, and his fork fell from his fingers, quietly flopping back down into the takeout box. Suddenly he wasn’t all that hungry. He could feel how all the blood had rushed straight to his face. Gene had said it so casually, so normally, that he could barely keep himself from stammering in response. What the fuck was his problem? This wasn’t some Playboy playmate here. This wasn’t some chick he was trying to impress! This was Gene! And here Paul was working himself up over nothing, absolutely nothing-- plenty brave enough to almost blow him in the limo, but unable to get the right word out with no one else around.

“Us?”

He heard himself say it before he even realized he’d opened his mouth. Gene looked over at him, head tilted.

“Yeah, us.” He paused. “What, did you want the coffin?”

“N-no, I--” God, he was scarlet. He stabbed at a spring roll, shoving it between his teeth to keep himself from blurting out anything more idiotic. It wasn’t working. “I just-- I didn’t know if you’d--”

“Paul,” His name cut through his words, his stammers, bringing his voice to a low mumble of apology for being a wreck. Even his eyes fell, too, and they softly landed at the foot of the bed right before Gene.

“I… I…” Paul breathed out shakily, still not knowing when to stop himself.

“Paul. Paul, listen,” Gene told him, rising up from the floor with a tape in hand. “I said we’re taking things slow. Slow doesn’t mean nothing at all… Jesus, did I give you the impression that we wouldn’t even hug or something?”

“N- No! No, no! I mean… I dunno! I- I’m just so on and off right now and- Gene, be honest with me, it’s driving you insane, yeah?” Paul cried. Tears began to swell in the corners of his eyes, and he blinked to try to get them to vanish.

Gene shut his eyes for a second, then opened them to look back down at his best friend. “You’re crazy. You’re a total diva sometimes, whiny and needy, but dammit, Paulie, listen…” he pleaded with him, moving over to fall on his knees before him. “Listen, for as many troubles you find yourself dealing with, how many good times are there to help even things out? How many days does your confidence outshine your shyness? How much trouble do you go through to make it in this line of work?”

“Gene…”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t already know the answers, Paul. I’d like to imagine you know the answers even better than I do. So, I have one last question, then… Would you think _you_ were rushing things along if _I_ was the one already comfortable sharing my bed for the night- for the whole week?”

“No, but…” Paul trailed hopelessly. “You’re-- you’re always comfortable! On or offstage! I’m the one that has to fake it! And I… look, you’re blaming the wrong things!” He exhaled, had to force himself, almost, to look Gene in the eye. The last time Gene had assumed that position in front of him had been a hell of a lot more comfortable, despite the aftermath. “You think I’m just nervous anyway. Maybe I am. But I don’t… you’re so… I’ve wanted this forever, you know?”

“Paul, you’re rambling--”

“And I know it’s not that big a deal to you, I know, but-- dammit, I feel like one of the girls from the Coop! Wanting to be all over you as bad as they do! Fuck, it’s embarrassing! And then I start wondering if I’m coming on too strong and scaring the hell out of you or if I’m going into this for the wrong reasons and I’m desperate ’cause of--” 

Paul took a breath. Times like this, rambles like this, he didn’t think Gene could possibly be paying attention. Had to be tuning him out with that dull, dispassionate look he gave during the more boring interviews. But looking down, he knew Gene was listening, somehow.

And before he could look too far away, Gene had moved to sit beside him, pulling one arm around him, urging him half into his lap-- and reached out his other hand to flick him on the forehead.

Gene leaned down, placing a soft kiss to Paul’s forehead soon after. “Stop thinking and relax for once, Paulie. Nothing is expected from you. ...Hell, don’t expect anything too wild from me, because I’m still trying to ease myself down into this.” Gene’s free hand moved up and cupped Paul’s cheek, his thumb gently stroking his soft skin. “I’m nervous, too. But everything’s going to be alright. As cliché as it is, just be yourself.” Gene smirked.

Paul swallowed and nodded, slowly moving his face back from Gene’s gentle grip in order to actually take a bite of his food. His hunger had returned… and was building with each moment he remained sitting on half of Gene’s lap.

Gene was right. The two of them finally had time together on their own, away from everyone else, away from KISS. This was good. This was just what they needed. They had time to learn and explore one another on their own terms, be as slow or fast as they wanted, and just be themselves. 

Besides, being at his house instead of another cloistered hotel would allow them the opportunity to not only talk but enjoy each other’s company without everything around them reminding them of past tensions. A fresh start together.

Paul relaxed against his bassist and best friend. He just had to remind himself-- again-- that there was no need to be so flustered and nervous. This was Gene. He knew Gene, and he didn’t have to pretend around him, or try to act a certain way, especially now that Gene had set the record straight for him in his own unique way. For once, Paul could just relax.

Of course, he couldn’t relax for too long against him since Gene cleared his throat and motioned for him to scoot down and lay back against the pillows. Paul gave him a look but did as he wanted. With a sigh, Gene watched him lay back and try to get comfy without him, finding it funny as Paulie sank back and almost vanished in the very plush pillows. He brushed a hand along his thigh before standing back up and returning to the TV, turning it on, moving over to the VHS player and tossing his tape in.

“Have you ever watched _Les Yeux Sans Visage?_ ”

Paul raised a brow at the title. French? Oh boy… Gene was showing off how _cultured_ he was. Paul couldn’t help but find it just a tiny bit endearing, however, since he knew Gene only liked to show off his movie collection to those nearest to him.

“Ah, can’t say that I have…”

“Not even its dubbed form titled _The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus_? C’mon, Paul, it was dubbed back in ‘62.”

“I was still watching _Rawhide_ in ’62.” Paul was starting to smile. “I’m pretty sure you were, too.”

“Guilty.” Gene turned the videocase over, hiding the cover art, though the tape was starting up. “Pop quiz, Paul. Time to see if that week in France did anything for you.”

“Gave me a new appreciation for girls shaving their pits over here--”

Gene gave him a withering look.

“Okay, okay, gimme the question already.”

“Translate the title. _Les Yeux Sans Visage._ ”

“Oh, come on, you know I failed French…” Shit, looking at the screen, he’d probably missed the title card and captions already, too. Paul pursed his lips. “Sans means without…. All right, _Sex Without Love_. It’s about the hippie movement.”

“With that background music? Try again.”

“Again? Uh… yeux… _Yolks Without Eggs_? It’s a horror movie about a killer chef. He, uh, bakes his victims into wedding cakes.”

Gene snickered and shook his head.

“ _Eyes Without a Face_ , Paulie.”

“...You really know how to set the mood, huh, Gene?”

Gene shrugged a little. “It’s a good movie, Paul…”

“About…?

“A surgeon that causes an accident which leaves his daughter disfigured, and goes to extremes to give her a new face.”

“I… I- Okay, Gene, how- You know what? It’s fine. It’s fine. God knows if I see any lovey dovey shit right now, I’ll bite off the tip of this fork.”

“Then you’ll owe me a fork.” Gene muttered without thinking.

“That’s where your focus went?” Paul asked him.

“Ahh, how terrible of me… I really should return my focus back to where it belongs, _Paulie~_ ” A smirk crawled back onto Gene’s face, and he sauntered on back to the head of the bed after gathering his armful of food. With more or less of a flop, he fell back onto his bed and set the boxes around him on the nightstand and on the bed. Carefully and gently, he tugged Paul over till he was curling right into his chest once more. 

Before Paul could open up those pretty little lips to mutter something about him being a brute or something, Gene acted quickly and slipped a whole forkful of noodles past his lips. Paul about choked when he first did it, having to quickly chew and swallow to spare himself from coughing, but he surprisingly became acquainted with the action by the second time. By the third time, though, Paul had it down pat.

Finally, Gene thought to himself. It took Paul long enough to find his appetite, to finally dig into his food and make up for the last few meals where he had hardly eaten a thing. As soon as sustenance started to enter his stomach, it woke up to remind him just how hungry he was. Gene was more than happy to continue the spoon feeding, but he hoped Paulie realized he could only do it for so long before he turned his fork back towards his own mouth. 

Paul seemed to enjoy eating his food with his eyes closed, humming out his approval and enjoyment every so often. There was getting to be a steady rhythm to it, Gene touching the tip of the fork to Paul’s lips, or sometimes sliding it between them, Paul taking the bite, sometimes with a lick of his lips or a casual swipe of his tongue. Once or twice he caught the fork between his teeth and then started lapping at the tines, always eager to please an audience, even an audience of one. 

He didn’t talk with his mouth full, although he did his fair share of muttering between bites. Gene tried to stay quiet to hear what he was mumbling, but from what he could gather it was just soft whispered thanks and praises. It did his ego a mighty stroke that just seemed to toss the cherry atop the whipped cream of the situation. His smirked stretched a bit more.

Paul didn’t stop him, didn’t stop the babying until both of his boxes of food were done and gone. Gene was almost impressed with him since he seemed to have finished both boxes in just a little over ten minutes. Onscreen, the doctor and his lab assistant hadn’t even murdered their first victim yet. It was enough, though. Plenty, Paul thought to himself, now that he wasn’t hearing the angry grumbles of his once empty stomach. Probably hadn’t helped his mood any, being hungry; if anything, he knew his anxiety got worse while he was on his more severe diet kicks.

All the bites of meat were very tender and had had a wonderful flavor that had been simmered in with them. The noodles hadn’t required too much chewing, being soft for him, and there was just something about it that made Paul enjoy being able to just swallow something down. The more he ate, the quicker he approached a full feeling. Gene snuck him in some of the spring rolls, and they were slowly shrinking any free space inside him. Pretty soon, Paul was going to hit that comfortable wall of fullness. He finished off with a combo of a spring roll and noodles, then nuzzled back against Gene and smiled.

It was then that he realized that Gene hadn’t brought any napkins up with him, and his cheeks and chin were covered with sauces. It was then that Gene leaned down and ran his tongue along his face, momentarily catching him off guard and causing him to flinch.

“Well, aren’t you messy?” Gene teased him, playfully. He finished off with a gentle flick of the tongue against the tip of Paul’s nose. Paul wrinkled it up for a moment, then leaned over to grab one of Gene’s boxes of food. “Hey… Those are mine-” he was cut off by a familiar motion of food being shoved past his lips. He snapped the spring roll in half and arched a curious brow down at his best friend.

Paul couldn’t help but smile.

Gene just smiled back down at him, then returned to eating, only stopping every few bites to make a comment about good it was or how happy he was for picking it. He cleared through the first box of his without a problem, like he hadn’t already devoured over a dozen or so potstickers earlier.

As soon as he slipped two spring rolls past Gene’s lips, Paul slid his free hand up and slid it under his shirt until his palms was over the top of his long, lean torso. Sure, Gene wasn’t made of stone, but he was quite solid, very warm, and soft to the touch. Not the kind of soft that he knew Gene did his best to avoid, but there was an unyielding kind of soft, like brushing somebody’s cheek or trying to sink fingers into a firm backside.

“You’re only cheating on this diet tonight~” Paul murmured softly, looking up to meet Gene’s downright smokey gaze. It was a little harder to follow up with that promise of his, though, when Gene’s hand slipped back down Paul’s neck, tracing every inch of skin he could get his fingertips on. The reverent expression on Paul’s face was priceless, foggy-eyed, open-mouthed and cheeks dusted with a red glow.

To have Gene touching him and looking at him like this was wonderfully strange and exciting and had all the blood that wasn’t turning his cheeks redder than a tomato rushing south.

Gene’s lips stretched out in a bigger, more lusty grin when Paul leaned over him to grab one of the boxes from the nightstand after he finished another one. Of course, he found himself wanting a taste of the sweetest thing in front of his face, so naturally he had to take a bite. 

Paul arched his back in surprised when he suddenly felt Gene pinch his ass as he leaned over him. The moment he turned his face to say something, he had his head thrown back as the Demon came down against his neck. Paul groaned loudly as Gene began to nibble at his sensitive skin, smearing a bit of grease from his lips onto him. His lips pressed into him, moving along the entire left side of his neck with ease and purpose.

Instinctively, Gene spread his legs wide and during his pleasuring, he kicked off his and Paul’s boots. He moved Paul over until he was settled between his legs and kissing him full on the mouth. Gene’s thighs tightened around Paul’s hips and pulled him closer for their makeout. 

A sharp growl from Gene’s stomach, unfortunately, interrupted their playful passion and grabbed both of their attentions.

Thankfully, Gene didn’t have to ponder about holding back once again since Paul was quick to reach over and resume stuffing his face for him. It was admittedly a little hard to get upset over not going all the way with Paulie when he had him still sitting between his legs- now resting up along his raised legs and rubbing his thighs- and slowly passing a spring roll past his lips.

Soon each bite was making him feel tighter and tighter, but he finished the last box off due to sheer stubbornness and not wanting leftover Chinese food spoiling in his room. The screams from the TV screen-- no subtitles required-- weren’t much more than a faint muffle as far as he was concerned, and he could tell Paul felt the same way.

Gene leaned up slowly and brushed his cheek against Paul’s. “We’re better now, right? We’re good?”

“I’m good, you’re good,” Paul murmured softly into his ear, nuzzling back against him. “We’re all good. I’ll go at whatever pace you want, Gene.”

“We’ll take it nice and slow, Paulie. I think that’s what we both need right now,” Gene smiled, pulling Paul back down with him onto the bed. He let Paul tuck his head under his chin and gently nose his way around his neck, leaving a little trail of kisses and gentle nips. “Nice and slow…”

 

 

“Nice and slow…”

Gene watched, unable to tear his eyes away as Paul sank down, just a little bit more, just enough for the tip of Gene’s cock to feel all that tight heat. Sweat kept his bangs plastered to his forehead, the muscles of his stomach rolling as he sank down, and he looked every bit at ease and pleased as he had every night before. 

Gene had to close his eyes for a moment. He had to breathe. Paul had previously murmured something about hours, and while he guessed that was an exaggeration, Gene was pretty certain Paul would enjoy more than five minutes. Only about five minutes if Gene didn’t calm himself down and try to stay in the heat of the moment.

Paul adjusted his knees as he continued to lower himself, little by little, biting down on his lower lip. The only other signs of just how heavily he was affected were the little sharp puffs of breath he let out, hot and steamy as they reached Gene’s skin. 

“There~” Paul moaned when he was full, Gene’s cock totally buried. His balls were pressing against him, and Paul’s own cock was dragging against Gene’s stomach.

Perfect.

And then Paul started to ride.

Gene threw his head back and smiled, thinking back to how this beautiful morning had started out. 

He had woken up earlier than Paul, which was unusual, but he enjoyed it because he got to watch Paul rest. Even a week later, his emotions were still a hurricane, rushing from one end of the spectrum to the other at the snap of his fingers. It was nice to see him so relaxed, looking so at peace with everything in the world for once. 

Paul snuggled closer into his chest, rubbing his cheek up and down against the warmth spread of skin below him. Gene smirked to himself as he looked down at him, spotting a dark bruise on his collarbone where he had enthusiastically bit him last night. He really hoped Paul woke up soon, so they could have one last chance at fun before they really had to wake up and get ready to leave. They had auditions for a new drummer today, and Gene knew that would probably take up most of the day and…. Oh, that slight part of Paulie’s lips was so distracting. Would it be so bad if he actually woke him? Sure, he would have to deal with a cranky Paul, but Gene could easily distract him now. Plotting his first move, Gene soon decided on starting with a kiss to Paul’s neck before leaning down to lick the bite mark.

Paul turned and shifted, moaning out, “Mornin,’ Gene…”

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty~” Gene chuckled, deeply. His lips met Paul’s for a brief moment, then moved to start kissing his way down Paul’s chest slowly, paying extra attention to his partner’s sensitive nipples.

Paul wasn’t quite up to moving just yet but smiled happily, reaching over to toy idly with Gene’s hair, run a hand down his back. How happy and wonderful he felt stirring awake right next to Gene… there was an easy comfort to it, a warm familiarity, like stepping into a favorite pair of blue jeans. That comfort turned into radiating heat when Gene began to move surprisingly lower and lower, pushing his legs apart. Tenderly, he kissed the soft skin of his thighs before tentatively moving to take Paul’s cock in his mouth and quickly getting him hard. 

Paul shivered in delight, all but purring at how eager and confident Gene had grown with him during their time together. He’d come far further, and more often, than he’d ever expected. Ah, but Gene wasn’t giving him a blow job this morning, he was just waking him up with a teasing notion of one. The bassist moved back up again to kiss him, lying on top of him, pressing his cock against Paul’s. 

“Are you awake yet?”

“Mmmhmhmm,” Paul hummed, reaching his head up for another quick kiss. “It’s a lovely way to wake up… You going to finish what you started?”

Gene gave him a coy look that was trying a bit too hard to be sexy. “Well, I could do that, but I was hoping you'd fuck me~”

Paul gave him an incredulous look. “I’m barely awake, Gene.”

“That’s why I was thinking of giving you a little sugar~”

“Oh, I think I love this idea~” Paul purred, starting to press his lips together in anticipation. He was too tired, or else just too lazy, for actual sex right now, but he would never turn down a morning makeout. Especially if he could cajole Gene into practicing his blowjob skills by the end. He sat up just a little on his elbows, expecting Gene to crawl back on top of him at any second. Instead, he stopped and blinked as he watched Gene reach over and snatch a leftover cupcake from its tray on the nightstand. “...Oh. You meant actual sugar.”

“We have time for the other kind later,” Gene promised him, unwrapping the cupcake as he fell down beside Paul. “Now, c’mon~ You know I don’t like all this frosting. It’s too damn much and all it does is block the actual cake part…”

Paul twisted his lips up slightly. “You’re the only person I’ve ever known to complain about frosting, I hope you know that.”

“And you’re the only person under ten I’ve ever known to eat the frosting and leave the cake.”

“Less calories,” Paul protested, smirk starting to form on his face. “Don’t complain if I’d rather lick…”

“Oh, I’m not complaining about you licking anything, Paulie.” Gene grinned down at him. “But I’d hate to waste such perfectly good cupcakes…”

Paul’s eyes opened just a bit more to look back at the cupcakes that they had started in on the previous night. Sure, there were four left, but they were fairly large, and overladen with a rainbow of rich frosting. Paul watched as Gene twirled the unwrapped cupcake between his fingers, seemingly admiring the vanilla cake but narrowing his gaze at the frosting that laid atop it.

“Well, are you going to let me take care of your problem or not?” he asked the bassist. 

“Which one?” Gene chuckled, deeply.

“Oh for heav- Gimme the damn cupcake.” Paul reached out and snatched it from Gene’s hand, then brought the top of it straight to his lips. Those soft lips parted in anticipation for his treat, his eyelids lowering themselves as well in an attempt to appear as sultry and seductive as possible. It was ruined when one of Gene’s fingers reached up and poked half of the cupcake straight into his mouth. Paul’s head slammed straight back into the pillows, and he shot Gene a glare as he pulled the cupcake back out, frosting-free.

Gene’s eyes were glittering with glee and slight mischief as he cupped the side of Paul’s face, his palm sticky with sugar from where he’d been handling the pastry before. He swirled his thumb around Paul’s lips, gathering the lingering frosting and pressing it into the lead singer’s mouth.

“I couldn’t resist,” Gene murmured, softly. He chuckled once more as he got yet another look from his partner. “You looked so sexy, though.” That would earn him a few brownie points, he felt.

It appeared to work some since Paul just nodded in agreement, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked on Gene’s thumb, releasing it with a wet pop as he pulled back. He could feel more heat begin to pool in his abdomen from the arousal of being so close to Gene, and having him feed him so intimately. Even if he hadn’t let him get in the show he wanted. Paul moaned, spreading his legs out on the bed ever so slightly.

Paul sat back and watched as Gene as he leaned over and grabbed two of the remaining three, licking his lips. They traded off treats. Gene took the frostingless cupcake from Paul, and Paul took both new pastries into his hands.

Unfortunately, Paul was a bit too eager with the two new ones. He let out an upset whine when he accidentally licked a huge glob of icing off the top of one, causing it to splatter sloppily against his hairy chest. So much for trying to be sensual. Gene laughed and shook his head, dragging his index finger through the mess of rainbow icing and returning it to Paul’s awaiting mouth. 

“Mmmmh, you always look good with something smeared all over your chest~” Gene commented, failing to hide a bit of his own blush. He drug his finger through the icing three more times to try to gather it all up, letting Paulie eagerly lick all the sugar off his thick digit. Perhaps it was the thick sweetness of the icing, or the heady knowledge that Gene was lavishing all this attention on him and only him, but Paul was starting to feel a bit hypnotized into giving into his more base desires. 

As he finished off licking the icing off the other baked good, Gene stole the other one from his hand, barely biting down on the treat before swallowing. A smirk tugged at the corner of Paul’s lips. Oh yes… It seemed as if he’d taught him well this week, after all.

Paul couldn’t help but compliment him. “You’re a quick learner~”

“You’re a persistent teacher.”

“Not a good one? Aw, Gene…”

“No, persistence is good. But you gotta make sure you’re laying on the incentives, too.”

“Hey, I’ll give you all the gold stars you want--” Paul paused. Three cupcakes, even if he just ate the icing, made a terrible breakfast-- so he might as well go all the way and make it four. He’d just need to do some cardio immediately afterward. “Gimme that last cupcake.”

Paul obediently opened his mouth when Gene presented him with his last treat and took the third cupcake from his hands, too. He watched on as Gene tried to make a little show of stretching his lips around the whole circumference of the pastry, teasing Paul lightly and getting his message across easily. Paul shot back with a message of his own, tongue flicking out to drag a whole strip of frosting back into his mouth, lips carefully surrounding the top portion of the treat and cleanly removing the icing, not leaving a trace of it behind. Slowly, Gene’s hand stretched out and removed the cake part from his partner’s hand. He went on to be sure to repeat his last act as he went on to devour it, trying to send another sort of hungry signal across to Paulie.

Luckily, Paul seemed to have read him just right, seemed to have enough of a sugar boost and hunger built up in himself by then that things just seemed to suddenly devolve and pick up steam. Neither of them were going to complain- only moan, honestly- especially when Paul was currently riding Gene for all he was worth.

Yes, Paul had started off slow for him, rocking back and forth almost gently, fingers strumming along Gene’s sides, then sliding up to squeeze at his chest. Nice and easy. Gene leaned back up and smiled at him, lost in the rhythm of his luscious body atop him, totally lost in the early morning light shining through the cracks of the curtain and dancing over their skin. It had been like this most all week, and yet it still seemed like the first time he’d let sex be more than just a frenetic buildup to the same old conclusion. Both of them completely relaxed into one another, feeling so at peace and enjoying the slow burn of their shared lust.

“So perfect~” Gene whispered to him. “Such a good boy~” Gene told him with a playful grin and a light tug of his hair from the right side. It made him throb, made him even harder inside of Paul.

Paulie purred and preened at the compliments, starting to rock his hips a bit faster for him in return. He continued to rub at his chest, down his sides, even reaching behind himself to stroke at his thighs. 

Always quick to return a favor, Gene brushed his fingers through Paul’s bushy hair, purposely snagging along knots that had yet to be brushed out or just tangling themselves up and giving him a good tug. Paul loved it all. He could feel the praise through his fingers, the warm unspoken words flowing through them, words of love, words of devotion they had yet to really talk about with one another. 

Oh god, how Paul wanted to have them already talking about it. He knew part of where he and Ace both had screwed up was by not discussing their relationship unless they were arguing or drunk or both. He didn’t want that with Gene. Not ever. Oh, but Gene had to be the one to bring it up… it wasn’t fair otherwise, Paul insisted to himself. Gene already knew how he felt; no need for Paul to be greedy and expect more than he was willing to give yet. He wouldn’t rush these things, wouldn’t scare him or try to back him into a corner that he wasn’t ready for. But with Gene already treating him so tenderly and adoring him- Oh, Paul was just waiting to hear something from him.

It didn’t take hours, but Paul did take his sweet time for Gene, riding slow and steady, rolling his torso a bit for him to put on a show or bouncing up and down for his pleasure. For the most part, they were mainly quiet, just trying to find that special rhythm between their bodies and enjoying the hell out of it when they found it.

Lost in each other’s lusty gazes, they relaxed, feeling at peace as they slipped into an almost trance like state of pushing and pulling against one another. They simultaneously lost yet found the other, syncing their hot breaths and moans, and even lacing their fingers together. 

All of it was wonderfully settling within Gene, both calming and exciting him sort of like the feeling he loved before jumping out on stage to perform. It was familiar, it was new. It was risky, but it was worth the risk. He had done this dance before, but now he knew all the steps to really rock to the rhythm without messing up. It was too much, but it was just enough to get him to come.

They came about the same time, the waves of pleasure gently washing over them, taking its sweet time easing out of both of them. 

Gene laid back afterwards, breathing slowly, until Paul leaned down to kiss him, a long, deep kiss that ended up with him removing himself and falling down atop of Gene’s chest. 

“Mmm,” he breathed out, running a hand down Gene’s sticky abdomen, “You were so good…”

“You did all the work, Paul. God, even on a bed that has to be bad on the knees…”

Paul snorted. So much for hoping for some sweet nothing in return. Gene was the practicality to his romanticism. But he didn’t find himself minding too much in the afterglow, not when Gene kissed the top of his head and ruffled his hair.

“Nah, jumping onstage is way worse…” he trailed idly, leaning into Gene’s touch. “Hey, how about we be irresponsible and cancel the auditions today? Just stay right here in bed like we have all week…”

“KISS needs a drummer more than we need to fuck,” Gene said, and Paul laughed in return, poking Gene’s chest.

“Oh, come on. Maybe it’ll inspire some song lyrics, we could be each other’s muses…” Paul almost started cracking up again at the mental image. It was a good distraction from the thought of the inevitable auditions. Finding someone with the hard-rock sound they’d always wanted wouldn’t be the problem; finding someone that would mesh and work and not drop right into the Studio 54 bullshit was. And finding someone while Ace was sitting right beside him for the first time since they’d ended it just made his stomach curl in on itself. It was going to be hard. Damn, was it going to be hard.

Those thoughts must’ve spilled onto his face, because Gene was soon cupping his cheeks and frowning. “Hey, hey. What’s that look about?”

Paul sighed, “Nothing…”

“Bullshit.”

“Gene-”

“Paul,” Gene spoke sternly, not allowing him any wiggle room to try and back out. “What’s wrong? Is it honestly about getting up? Hell, I could call, but we really shouldn’t cancel today’s. We also have four whole days of them, too-”

Paul shook his head, shifting out from his partner’s grip and just resting his face down against his chest. “It’s not that, Gene. … It’s… It’s Ace.” he swallowed. “I’m going to be near him for the first time since…” He trailed off, shutting his eyes.

“Oh,” As ever an understatement he normally delivered when it came to dealing with Paul’s heavy, emotional struggles. “Well… Well, I’ll sit between you two.” he offered up.

“Y- You what-”

“Listen, listen! I suck at this, but just try to hear me out, please.” Gene told him, rubbing his hand down his back. “Don’t let him see you as a wreck. Don’t give him the idea that you need him back when he’s still such a wreck, himself. Put on your stage face. Stroll on in there like Starchild, strutting around and giving it your all. If he tries to talk to you, play it off or come back to me. He isn’t going to want to deal with me after guessing you probably told me everything, as if I didn’t hear it all happen between you two.” Blunt, a bit brutal but honest, Gene hoped at least something in his little pep talk worked for Paul.

Paul nodded slightly against Gene’s chest. He was right. Yeah, he was right. They’d all be putting on a bit for the sake of the auditions anyway, not wanting any of the would-be drummers to see them act too far out of character, even though they weren’t bothering with makeup. But Ace wasn’t stupid. He could see through the Starchild facade just as easily as Gene could, maybe even easier.

“I don’t want to be hiding behind you. You don’t need to protect me here.” Granted, part of Paul wanted him to. Dealing with Ace felt like drinking a lye cocktail, all the worse because it wasn’t resolved, just over. He missed him, wanted him still… but he knew better now. He did. Paul pulled away from Gene’s grasp, sitting up as he continued. “If I can’t face him during an audition, how the hell am I going to face him in the studio? During concerts? I’ve got to do this on my own. For my sake and the band’s.”

“Paul…” A sharp pang of frustration and concern suddenly burst straight through his chest. He understood that Paul couldn’t hide behind him, had to let him face his own problems, but there was this little piece of Gene that didn’t want to see what would happen if he only ended up getting himself hurt. Dammit, he knew Paul was a fully grown man, capable of making his own choices, but it wasn’t stopping this need to throw him behind him, block him. Gene had done it before- hell, before any of this- but the need to stop him from creating a bigger problem for himself never felt as strong. But- But… Gene sighed, “You’re right…”

“Gene…”

Gene laid his hand atop of his and held his gaze. “Listen, only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Paul spoke softly, nodding. “I have to do this.”

Gene sighed, shutting his eyes, then opening them back up. “Alright. Let’s go get a shower, then.”

 

 

If Gene had to shake just one more sweaty drummer’s hand today, it would be too soon.

Goddammit… It was only the second day of their four days of auditions, too.

He thought he was a pro at the weeding-out process. All of them were; between the three of them they’d probably been in about ten other bands total. They knew the ins and outs and even if their ideas about KISS’ sound weren’t perfectly aligned, they knew what they wanted out of their new drummer. It should have been simple. Smooth.

Instead they’d been treated to unendurable tough-guy smarm from drummers who were sure they’d gotten the offer before even sitting down to play, guys so nervous they couldn’t even stammer out their own names, much less bang the drums, and, horribly, some fifteen-year-old truant their security had to escort out. Gene rubbed his forehead. 

“Beat in time, don’t do drugs, and have a good sound. That’s the basics right there! We’re only asking for someone unknown, with long hair that can sound like a world class rock drummer, around our age, who can sing lead vocals and has no tattoos. Seriously… That’s all. Bar couldn’t be any lower.”

Paul’s eyes shot over to him for a second, and Gene could feel their need to roll themselves once again at his list of demands.

“What? Am I forgetting something?”

“Well, he has to know our songs,” Paul muttered dryly. “I think that might help.”

“Are we asking too much?”

Next to him, Ace shrugged and started to spin in his swivel chair. He’d had a beer before the auditions begun and had downed another during. Unsurprisingly. But if that was all he’d done, he was pretty much sober. And he seemed it, despite the stupid antics. Everything he’d said made perfect sense today. Gene wondered if he was making some half hearted attempt to get clean, or if he just hadn’t wanted to embarrass himself in front of Paul. Not that it really mattered. Paul had been doing great, sitting there on the other side of Ace, confident and controlled. If Ace had said anything to hurt him yet, Gene hadn’t caught it.

But really, Ace didn’t have to speak to get his point across. He was his usual congenial self to the drummers, engaging them in conversation way more than he and Paul were, but as soon as they’d left his gaze was back on Paul, his teeth sunk into his lip. Gene couldn’t quite figure out the look on his face and didn’t want to try, either. Not angry, exactly, just bitter. Pained. He could tell Ace wanted to reach out to Paul-- as if calling him hadn’t been bad enough-- and that was the absolute last thing Paul needed. Gene just hoped Paul’s resolve was enough to keep that from happening.

The looks Ace was giving Gene, though, more than kept his pity at bay. Ace had always been weird as hell, randomly popping off about Jendell and aliens before they’d even started with the makeup. Paul had insisted over the years that Ace knew things, and Gene had always rolled his eyes and said that all Ace knew was how to mix cocaine and alcohol without killing himself in the process. But now Gene could almost see where Paul was coming from. It felt like Ace was peering into his soul with every disgusted glance. It felt like he knew everything. Not just that Paul had told Gene-- everything, the week at his place, their nights together.

God, he needed to stop that. He was getting as paranoid and self-conscious as Paul here.

“Okay, okay. Who’s next?” he asked, dragging a hand down his face.

“Some guy named _Paul Caravello_ ,” Ace muttered, surprising both Paul and Gene since he hadn’t so much as glanced at the name sheet the entire time. “He should be in soon.”

Gene glanced over to Paul for a moment, catching his eye and sharing his weirded out thoughts. Paul raised his brow, as if he were telling him that this truly had been happening for years now. God, how had he missed these strange moments before?

Gene just sighed and shook his head. “Well, he better be good and not just here to waste our time like all the other bums.”

“Oh, c’mon, Gene. I have a good feeling that we’ve saved the best for last.” Paul told him.

“Yeah, you say that now, but then comes strolling on in this-” The door opened. Gene’s tongue fell back in his mouth and his heart throbbed immediately. “ _This cute guy…_ ” he mumbled the last part.

Suddenly, Gene could only describe the moment as one where those schmucks with wedding bands burned on their fingers always described seeing their partners for the very first time. Seeing something so beautiful it was as if God himself were coming down to Earth. How they could go on about the details about the fireworks that just exploded in their minds when they saw them or heard the sound of angels in their ears.

Gene’s entire train of thought has just derailed as he watched this short, adorable man walk right in to meet them. The only thoughts he was able to conjure up were both exciting and frightening to him. This wonderful man would soon end up in his arms, and the two of them would end up embracing under the moonlight on a starless night. As soon as his eyes had taken him in, as soon as this man has strolled right on up to Paul and extended his hand out to him, Gene felt it.

A sort of grinding.

Gene had the distinct impression that a prophecy of sorts had just been fulfilled. But he had also felt as if gears in his head were suddenly being twisted and bent. Gene swore he could just hear it in his mind. It was a small sensation, something he really didn’t understand, but suddenly he felt his heart rate increase. His eyes slowly wandered over to Ace while the potential drummer stood there talking to Paul. The look on Ace’s face about stopped his heart.

**_“You son of a bitch…”_ **

The words weren’t spoken aloud. Hell, Gene was sure the look on Ace’s face just said them. But, damn, Gene was also sure he heard those words echo in his mind.

The gears suddenly stopped grinding in his head. Gene turned his head away from Ace just as the auditioner walked over to greet the lead guitarist. 

Thoughts and fears suddenly stabbed at Gene’s own heart for reasons he didn’t understand, couldn’t even describe. Almost like a wary premonition, except he hadn’t ever had one of _those_ before, either, and… shit. Things were just… just getting to him. Two weeks of helping Paul pull himself together, hours of auditions, Ace’s… whatever the hell Ace was… was doing, maybe it was just whatever remained of Gene’s own guilty conscience. And now this guy, this-- now this guy was staring straight up at him with a big, expectant smile spread across his face.

Shit. Shit, he’d forgotten to even blink. 

“Hi! Mr. Simmons, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” _Paul_ , was it? Yes, Paul had extended his hand out to him for him to shake. 

“Call me Gene, _Paul_.” Gene’s hand tingled when they shook hands, and it also sent his stomach tumbling just like he had heard from all those romance movies. 

“ _Gene_ ,” he tested the name out on his tongue, cutely. He nodded, the fluffiest mop of hair that Gene had ever seen on anyone just shaking back and forth on his head as he did so. “Cool, cool. So should I just go right over and start?”

“Start?” Gene echoed, trying so hard not to lose himself in that dark chocolate gaze.

The new Paul laughed, a sweet sounding thing, saying, “Yeah. Start drumming?”

“Yeah, sure, sure. Go on,” Gene motioned for him to go on and get behind the drum-kit they had set up across the room from them. He tried to play some of it off but damn… How could he when this guy was just as cute as a button? 

He couldn’t. Gene felt his fate seal itself just as the new Paul settled himself on the stool behind the drum-kit, adorably wriggling around until he was comfortable. He rolled his shoulders to get some tension out and smiled as he glanced over to the three of them.

Deep brown eyes peeked through the black bangs that kept falling down on his face, and the new Paul just flipped his head back and brushed them aside. Even Ace and Paul sitting beside him were looking a bit amazed by just how much fluff there was on that man’s head.

When he flipped his hair a second time after grabbing his sticks, though, his eyes glanced over and met up perfectly with Gene’s, then cute, chapped lips curled back into a grin.

As he began, Gene’s breath might have caught in his throat because hot damn, he truly felt like he already knew everything about this man, even though he knew absolutely nothing at all, and he just wanted to cuddle him for days. He was adorable, and just absolutely pure, loving, and kind, and Gene had never had such a strong reaction to a man from a single glance like that before.

It was embarrassing-- really damn embarrassing, but Gene had no idea how the actual audition went. He heard the music, heard the vocals, but the performance itself was an utter and complete mystery. He’d spent each song alternately staring at the guy, trying not to stare at the guy, pretending to take notes, and watching Ace and Paul nod along and scribble (Paul was actually doodling, which wasn’t remotely unusual, but he at least looked excited). Thank God it was on tape and he could play it again later.

Yeah, later.

A bit of clapping from Ace and Paul beside him snapped him from his trance a bit, and he blinked just in time to see Paul Caravello rising from behind the drum-kit. Gene just sat back in his chair but let a little grin show. If he had Ace and Paul agreeing on something, then he knew that this cute puffball had a shot to make it to the final round. As far as Gene was concerned, though, he was already sure of who had won.

Paul moved up out of his seat to go meet with the new Paul who was edging his way around the drum-kit and trying to walk back over to them. Ace followed him in a moment, hesitating only to glance in Gene’s direction.

“C’mon, Gene,” It may have been spoken normally, but Gene still couldn’t help but feel the venom just itching to drip from his words. His gaze only stood on him until he watched the bassist sink a bit at it.

The moment Ace turned his back, Gene was glaring into it. Damn him for trying to egg him on to being uncivil in front of their auditioner. He knew that was what he was going for! If he couldn’t get to Paulie, then he’d try to go for him. Well, he wasn’t to have-

“So, Gene, whatcha think?” A cute Brooklyn accent pulled him away from him muddied thoughts, bringing a slow curve to his lips as well.

“Personally, I think you fit all of my requirements,” For KISS. Dammit, he should’ve said for the band! Oh, but wasn’t it worth it to see that adorable blush creeping up from under his collar? His heart definitely thought so, and it melted.

Ace immediately elbowed Gene, with about as much subtlety as could be expected. Paul threw Gene a mildly surprised, questioning look-- he hadn’t said anything like that to the rest of the drummers-- but hey, there was something about the guy that Paul thought was kind of charming, too.

“Thanks! Hey, uh, I thought maybe before I left…” the new Paul trailed brightly, producing a plain folder with the audition setlist written on it. “... I know you guys get this all the time, but could I have your autographs?”

Gene thought he might just dissolve on the floor in a thick, disgusting goop of bizarre, sappy emotions right there. Not even one of their albums! He appreciated that it wasn’t. It made it better. This guy wasn’t a crazed fan-- he was just a guy trying as hard as he could to make it. Just like they’d been. It was so-- fuck, it was ridiculously cute. 

He managed a “yeah, sure,” and reached for the folder, scrawling his name far larger than he meant to before trying, stupidly, to hand it back to the drummer. Luckily, or not, Ace snatched it from him and signed, even drawing the card, his expression softening for half a second before it became unreadable again. He passed it along to Paul without a word, who scribbled his signature and returned the folder with a smile.

“Thanks for your time, Paul. You sounded great, we’ll review the tape and go over our notes, but just know you made a great big impression on us. We’ll let you know in a few days, and if you hear from us, then we’ll bring you in for the final audition.”

“Alright, sweet,” The new Paul nodded, safely tucking the folder under his arm. “Thank you guys so much. It was awesome getting to meet and drum for you. I hope I made a good impression.”

Ace might have accidentally leaned back into Gene at that moment, once again elbowing him. “He made quite the impression, didn’t he, Gene?” the lead guitarist sneered, slightly.

Gene brushed him away and moved over to the shorter, fluffier Paul. He extended his hand out one last time, and the drummer took it. “Yes. Yes, he did. Thanks for your time, Paul. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you soon.” Gene spoke softly.

Their hands tingled as they shook one last time, then drummer’s fingers slowly slid back, the tips of his digits curling against Gene’s palm as they were drug back.

“Bye,” God, Gene felt his heart throb the moment his fluffy Paul turned his head and headed towards the door.

“...” Gene’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth. He wanted to say something, scream, but he just turned his gaze back to his Paul- God, _his Paul?!_ What the hell was he doing!? How could he act like such a total love sick dope over another person when Paulie was right there! Right there! Dammit!

God, Gene was only lucky and grateful that Paul had been too absorbed in all the papers and schedule sheet to really notice how he and the drummer had parted ways… Paul would’ve snapped or worse...

Paul’s absorption was more toward keeping his cool around Ace than anything, not that he’d own up to it. His notes all through most of the auditions, not just that last drummer’s, were a flurry of doodles. Naked women and his usual dick drawings, mostly (never combined), but he’d also done a few cartoons of his own made-up face-- which hadn’t been the distraction he’d wanted them to be from the way he could feel Ace looking at him, the want there. The want still burning inside them both. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He’d flopped around drowning in his own melodrama for two weeks now; it was over, really over, and now they both, now they all had more important things to worry about, KISS paramount among them.

“All right.” Paul exhaled, looking from Gene to Ace. “All right, we’ll look over the tapes, do the second round of auditions, get our guy…”

Ace snorted. Paul ignored it.

“... And then in July, we’re playing the Palladium and getting ready for the European tour. It’s gonna be one hell of a next two months.”

Gene’s eyes had slowly turned their way back to the door that the drummer had left through while Paul talked. An echo in the back of his mind kept on muttered, _“... have him… You just got to have him… You just got to have him, don’t you…?!”_

Gene bit his lip and tore his eyes away. He hoped to God it was his own conscience sneering at him and not the unspoken words of their lead guitarist making their way into his thoughts. At this point, however, Gene would have believed it was either.

“What do you think, Gene?” Paulie asked, leaning over towards him.

“...About the upcoming tour?” Gene guessed, trying to remember the last words that came out of Paul’s mouth. Luckily, he guessed right.

“Well, yeah, what else was I talking about for the last five minutes?”

“Wasn’t food related, wasn’t bothered to listen,” Gene replied, smoothly, trying to downplay his non-reactions with some of his odd humor. Paul seemed to accept it.

“Fine, fine. We’ll break for lunch.” Paul smiled, moving his hand till it touched the top of Gene’s shoulder. Nothing there to hint at anything, but it was enough for Paul to enjoy the bond they had built up in the past few weeks. “But you’re acting like I didn’t offer you a breakfast special in the limo~” he muttered softly, leaning in a bit more so Ace couldn’t hear him.

Ace’s head still shot up and turned in their direction, regardless. It was low, but Gene could see the start of a real fire beginning to blaze in his eyes.

“But you’re getting pumped for the tour, yeah?” Paul asked, leaning back and resting a hand on his hip.

“Yeah.” Gene nodded, trying to match Paul’s casual enthusiasm. But any enthusiasm on his part had departed with their new-- no, the last-- drummer walking out the door. Greedy, just greedy. Thinking all these things as if Paul wasn’t right there beside him, as if he hadn’t spent a week in his arms like the bastard he was. “Yeah… I’m looking forward to it.”


End file.
